The Boy Who Played
by DonofLolz
Summary: Three mysterious students suddenly appear in North High and they are by no means normal. Sanjit Ahmed, Rebecca Giles, and, most of all, Alistair Clarke. Just what is their purpose here? And what's wrong with Nagato? Prequel to 'The Boy Who Waited.'
1. The Humble Entrance

So, you want to hear my story, eh? Well, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't at least a little interesting. At a glance, your standards would dictate that I led a normal life; I was born, I lived, I loved, I died. I still had so much to live for, I didn't want to die when I did, but I don't regret one second of it. My name is Alistair Clarke. This is the story of how I died.

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><p>The entire school marched robotically into the studio hall, muttering and moaning about having to walk even further in the morning after climbing the hill up to school. The hall and stage were lit and the heating fans blew hard, doing nothing to stop the cool autumn air seeping in through every crack. The students trudged into the rows of metal chairs and took their seats as the headmaster marched onto the stage. He scanned the assembling crowds and his eyes kept on jittering to the side of the stage, the heavy red curtain gently waving. A few students noticed this, pointing it out to their friends.<p>

"Come on!" Haruhi groaned, shuffling impatiently in her seat beside Kyon. "What the hell is going on?" Kyon decided that he couldn't spare the effort required for speech, instead focusing on if the weather was warm or cold and how he should complain appropriately. He had heard a few rumours that there was some kind of festival or announcement that involved the whole school, but he started to doubt them as he spotted the headmaster nervously glance to side of the stage and give a thumbs up.

"Alright, students, settle down!" he called, the room silencing at the odd spectacle. "Now, I have a special announcement for you all toady. We will be joined by three new students today, and they are very special. They are all on a foreign exchange programme here in Japan from Winchester Academy, a school for the gifted in England. I want you all on your best behaviour and to show our guests courtesy whilst they are here. So, could you please welcome Sanjit Ahmed, Rébecca Giles and Alistair Clarke." As the crowd applauded, three figures walked out from the curtain and lined up at the front of the stage.

The first boy who walked out was a chunky boy with dark skin with tight curls of blonde hair attached to a round face. His arms bulged slightly in his shirt, suggesting that he had some strength hidden behind his superior snarl that surveyed the crowd with an air of disgust. The girl that followed him attracted whistles from the boys, but they were quickly cut off by Sanjit's cold glare. She held her head in a slight bow, her cruel blue eyes staring down her tiny nose at the floor. Her thin arms were flecked with freckles and her waist was pencil-thin. Haruhi's interest peaked and her jaw hung in excitement as the applause faltered.

Finally, the sound of finely crafted leather boots clunked softly onto the stage after the two other students and the room went silent. Everything was so very, very silent. Sanjit was the first to break the quiet. He bid them good morning with a sharp voice made thick with years Hindi dialogue. Rébecca's greeting was nearly silent, her light French accent making her graces sound like music. Haruhi's eyes sparkled as the shorter Alistair stepped and swept his arm into a theatrical bow.

"Good morning." greeted a crooning voice that took many of the girls by surprise, "My name is Alistair Clarke. I'll be joining your school, I hope we can all be friends." Silence. Haruhi, shameless as ever, climbed up onto her chair and applauded loudly. Some of the students turned to her in shock before whispering to their neighbours in concern and joining in. Before long, the room had begun to thunder with applause, punctuated largely from screeches and whistles from the whole school. Kyon stared. Koizumi was applauding gently in the row in front of him. Either the esper was telepathic or he had the exact same feeling as Kyon. Koizumi turned to him with his polite smile and raised an eyebrow before being bombarded by Haruhi.

"Who do you think they are? Are they 00 agents? You think they're spies?" Her eyes were lit like a bonfire covered in diesel as the applause died down and the students descended the stage, escorted out of the room by an especially pompous-looking teacher. As the teens walked past his row, Kyon spotted a smile crawl onto Alistair's face and his teeth glowed slightly as he smiled down the lines. But Kyon's head wasn't spun by the almost flirtatious look the new kid was giving the girls through hair that was white as snow and shone like polished steel, it was beneath it. Literally.

For a single second, Kyon's eyes locked onto the kid's and his body was unable to move. The second seemed to stretch and he felt his mind go blank as he helplessly stared back, his muscles totally locked in place. The colour drained from all around him and all sound was dulled to an incomprehensible roar, but Kyon just couldn't escape those two orbs of melted amber. As quickly as it had appeared, the feeling was gone, the kid breaking eye contact as the teachers attempted to calm the students down whilst hustling the academy students out of the door. Kyon slumped in his chair, suddenly feeling drained and out of breath. His 'leader' didn't take notice of her injured subordinate and continued to crane her neck as the headmaster retook his podium.

"Now, Mr. Ahmed and Miss. Giles will be joining the senior year's Class C," A few of the seniors elbowed each other and whispered excitedly, "Whilst Mr. Clarke will be joining junior year's Class B." Kyon groaned as he predicted the very notes that Fate's strings played. Of course the one that just assaulted his head was going to be in his class. "Alright, that's all, you're dismissed." Filled with a fresh buzz of energy, the students filed out of the studio to the sound of the bell, chattering about that cute Eastern boy and that weird kid with the smooth voice.

But it seemed that not all of Kyon's day was ruined; Alistair Clarke wasn't in class that day and, from what the rumours were saying, neither were the other two Winchester students. Some speculated that they had all been taken orienteering around the school, which meant only trouble for Haruhi; she'd have to hunt them a little harder, but Kyon knew from the way she was applauding earlier she was aiming for one in particular.

_Personally, I'd be happy with never seeing that Clarke kid again. He's definitely not normal, 'cause there's no way a normal person could make me feel so... exposed. But Haruhi is Haruhi, so she's gonna jump on the weirdest people she can find. And Clarke was the weirdest of the three._

As the final bell rang, Haruhi's chair was wobbling without an owner, a flash of brown hair disappearing out of the door. Kyon sighed heavily and said goodbye to Taniguchi and Kunikida, slowly packing his stuff after what felt like an unending day. He just couldn't get those eyes out of his head. As he finally heaved his backpack over his shoulder and slid the class door open, most of the school were already out of the door, allowing Kyon to hear another door sliding open. He looked up from his path and found Koizumi bowing out of a door.

"Oh, hello. I guess we better hurry if we don't want to make Miss. Suzumiya angry?" Kyon gave a non-committal grunt; giving a 'yeah' would've meant moving faster than a tired lope. Plus, he wouldn't have ever heard a sound that echoed down the empty hall. He stopped stock still and listened hard and felt the last of his energy leave him in a little sigh; it was those boots that looked like they were hand-carved from a black hole. There, at the far end of the hall, oblivious to their presence, the strange white-haired kid walked slowly. He was totally unaccompanied and Kyon felt a small tug as he left his sight. He groaned as he realised that Haruhi was starting to rub off on him.

"Hey, Koizumi, you go on ahead, I'll catch up with you. I'm just going to-"

"You're planning to pursue that new boy Alistair Clarke, aren't you?" Koizumi interrupted, second-guessing him with a knowing smile. Checking that Haruhi hadn't heard them by peering up the stairs cautiously, Koizumi grinned and stepped ahead of Kyon. "I've been having a few words with my superiors during my lunch break and have been told that I need to keep an eye on our new guests, so it's actually part of my job to go snooping. Shall we?" he added with a small laugh, leading the way silently after Clarke. They reached the end of the hall and peered after him, watching as his purposeful stroll took him around another corner. They stalked with stealth Kyon didn't know was at his disposal, ducking into shadows and doorways every time Clarke slowed and surveyed one of the display boards.

"Is he... meeting someone?" As they crouched awkwardly behind a water fountain after traversing a fair portion of the school, Clarke passed a partially hidden figure and stood in a three-way intersection. It was deserted apart from the shadowed second student and his two stalkers. After staring down both of the halls, he turned wordlessly to the figure, which pushed itself off of the wall and curtseyed low.

"Urgh, one of his fan girls, by the looks of it." Kyon said with distaste as the boy put his hand on the girl's shoulder, causing her to wring her hands nervously as she stood. They didn't seem to be talking, just staring at each other in the evening sunlight, but it was hard to tell from where they were standing. Then, Clarke did something that Koizumi and Kyon weren't expecting; he turned on his heel and offered his arm, which the girl took. Together, they walked further to the entrance of the school, the two boys still hot in pursuit.

"Wait a moment... Does that girl look familiar?" Koizumi had a slight height advantage, letting him see a little more of the girl, mainly her soft face as she turned to look at the boy who she accompanied. But that didn't matter, because her lime green hair was profound enough. They stopped outside of a double-door and turned to each other, again not talking. "Isn't... Isn't she the Computer Club's President's supposed girlfriend? You remember, the one that he never met?" Kyon focused hard and suddenly remembered; he had only seen her once before. It was in the club room, when she asked the SOS Brigade to solve her 'boyfriend's' mysterious disappearance.

"Wasn't it Kimidori? Emiri?" Koizumi smiled and snapped his fingers in triumph, accidentally attracting the attention of Clarke. The boy's head snapped to the side and he stared down the hall. As his head rotated and hair shifted slightly, Kyon made it a point not to look at him, avoiding his eyes like Medusa's glare. Maybe a mirror would work on him? Koizumi peered around the corner and gasped as he leaped back. Kyon, still kneeling, felt his face burn and heart stop as he found Kimidori's knees suddenly in his face.

"Oh, hello." she greeted with a soft confidence, "Weren't you two the boys that helped find my boyfriend with Miss. Suzumiya?" She smiled politely at Koizumi, who returned it,

"Yes, that's right." No sense in confronting her now; they still had to escape. "Um, if you don't mind my asking, but you and Mr. Clarke seem to be very close?" Emiri looked at him for a few seconds before jumping and turning on her heel. Kyon never heard a sound, so how the girl knew that Clarke was walking down the hall after her was a mystery. The strange boy walked with a straight back and with eyes forward, stopping in the centre of the intersection and staring ahead. Emiri started to talk, but his left arm suddenly snapped out and pointed over her shoulder, not taking his eyes off of the hall before him, a clear sign for 'go away.' Kyon looked back to Kimidori with interest, expecting some kind of domestic retort to her apparent boyfriend, but she just gave a shaky nod and hooked her small hands around Kyon's and Koizumi's arms.

"Come on, boys, Mr. Clarke has to have a meeting with our fellow students and we shouldn't interrupt." Watching with intrigued, cautious silence, Koizumi allowed himself to be led away a short distance before Kimidori stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"So, Miss. Kimidori, do you know much about Mr. Clarke and his co-students?" Kyon could really appreciate Koizumi's smooth talking, which seemed to operate on the same wavelength as Kimidori.

"You're referring to his movements, I take it? Well, from what I've gathered from him, Mr. Clarke, Mr. Ahmed and Miss. Giles all come from a very prestigious and militaristic academy for the country's best. He tells me that he was going to have a meeting with them and doesn't appreciate anyone else being there." Kyon's skin crawled, was that guy always aware of their presence? Even from down the hall, Kyon spotted Clarke's back stiffen slightly as his chest swung outwards, as if ready to receive a hard punch. But nothing of the sort came. He gave his head a little jerk and bowed his head to his two upperclassmen as Ahmed and Giles stopped before him. Ahmed did the same and Giles curtseyed, allowing the younger boy to kiss her hand.

"Disciplined, proper." Koizumi noted to himself, along with the strange glare that the two boys were giving each other. Clarke turned slightly and presented his arm to the two, showing them down the hall and following them closely. A door was opened and closed, followed by an awkward silence.

"...on? Kyon?" a far-off voice called. Kyon's stomach dropped as the unmistakable voice of the Brigade Leader drifted from the stairs and met his ears.

"Um, Miss. Suzumiya? I don't think you should be shouting so loud?" Mikuru's timid, angelic voice pleaded with the girl, but to no avail.

"No way! If I don't shout, that bone-head won't be able to hear me. Honestly, Mikuru, if you stay like a klutz your whole life, you'll only appeal to a portion of the long-term fan base- There they are!" Haruhi landed with ease after leaping the last seven stairs of the staircase and rushed over to Kyon and Koizumi. "You're both late! Penalties! You guys were no help in the hunt!" Kyon took a moment to contemplate what she had said.

"Hunt? What hunt? Me and Koizumi were just-" Kyon turned and was shocked to find that Kimidori had disappeared from their side silently.

"I don't care what you idiots were doing, what's important is that you're here now." She craned her head around and smiled excitedly, "We're gonna go recruit some new members!" Mikuru and Nagato followed down the stairs in their unique fashions, but Nagato was looking a little off today. More alert, more confident in her movements, as if she were moving with a purpose that was beyond Haruhi's orders. Haruhi gestured to her with her head, "Yuki's been helping us track down those new academy kids! They're class and foreign varieties are bound to attract all sorts of attention to the Brigade!" She beamed widely as if what she just said made sense. Without a word, Yuki continued walking past Haruhi, who clapped excitedly and hopped up and down like a child, and followed the small girl closely.

"Hey, you shouldn't do that, Nagato's not a sniffer dog, you know." Kyon commented angrily, but not even Koizumi noticed; all eyes were locked with intrigue at the small sophomore girl that started an awkward jog as she reached the intersection and turned right, heading for the double doors.

"Miss. Nagato seems to be in a hurry." Koizumi commented with an air of amusement, his longer strides keeping up with the hustling crowd with ease. Ahead of them, Nagato opened the double door and entered slightly, pointing off to the edge of the class as the rest of the Brigade entered the dark room. Kyon was surprised that he'd skulked this far from the clubroom and hadn't noticed where he'd been travelling, for he suddenly found himself back in the studio hall with all of the lights off bar the stage lights. A little way in the darkness of the back of the hall, Kyon was sure he could see the small figure of Kimidori lurking, but there was no way to tell for sure.

This, however, was nothing in comparison to the odd spectacle that was on stage. The three Winchester students appeared to have been busy in the minute that Kyon wasn't watching, for the stage was full. The great grand piano was dominating one side of the stage, a seat and a microphone occupying the second half. The sound of a violin being tuned didn't look right coming from Ahmed's strong, scowling form. The sleek instrument in his arms looked so small and brittle, a polar opposite look that Clarke donned as he sat at the piano, running his fingers over the keys with a look of extreme concentration. Giles stood before the microphone with her eyes closed, her delicate lips moving as she breathed deeply. Haruhi grabbed Kyon's shoulder and opened her mouth, but jumped as she was suddenly silenced.

Clarke had started playing. His stern stare and manic smile had disappeared as he played a few notes and paused, rolling his head dreamily, his eyes closed as if he were savouring the taste of an age-old wine. He repeated this process again before finalising his solo piece by tossing his head into the air majestically and nodding to Rébecca.

"Mezamete ha kurikaesu, Nemui asa ha," The girl on stage softly burst into song, her French accent giving the fluently sung Japanese words a graceful ring as the small boy played on in his dream-like state. The music began to grow in pace and Ahmed stood and played with them, his violin singing with the vocals. For a while, the unlikely trio played in beautiful synchronicity, their talents doing the music glory.

"Sonna nichijou ni, fukinukeru kaze..." Rébecca smiled as she looked to the piano and let her voice become a reminder. Clarke seemed to know the song well as his eyes exploded open and his insane grin bloomed on his face. The pace raised and Clarke's fingers rushed to the higher notes, not missing a single one as Rébecca sang on. The Brigade was caught in stunned silence as they watched the three students play on, but none were impressive as the junior; Clarke was smiling and laughing in open joy, swinging his head and thrashing his body passionately to the notes as his lean fingers hammered the keys of the huge piano. As the song drew to its climax, sweat was flicking from his sweeping hair as his body became the music, his face was one of fanatical joy as he drummed his legs to the final notes. As the final line played, Clarke hunched over the piano before hurling his arms aside, a triumphant smile on his glistening face as the instrument rang before him, his chest heaving.

After his arms fell, he stood with a proud back and composed himself with a slight blush, as if he were embarrassed by his performance before the glaring Sanjit. He whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his shining brow before nodding seriously to the two seniors. They didn't say a word to each other as Ahmed packed his violin and strode off stage, slamming the fire escape open as if suddenly in a foul mood. Rébecca gave a little wave before following him out, leaving Clarke standing in the spotlight, unaware of people who observed him.

"Hey! Hey, you!" Haruhi suddenly exploded, charging through the darkness to the suddenly startled boy, "Wait up!" The Japanese language clearly wasn't Clarke's first language as 'wait up' was heard as 'run away,' because he barely considered the Brigade leader's request before stealing away, disappearing after the other two without a sound. Haruhi leaped onto the stage and ran after him, bursting out into the open air. She turned all around, but the three students had disappeared. She pouted and stormed back into the building, glaring off of the stage into the darkness where her Brigade waited expectantly.

"He got away." She sighed and marched off stage and headed for the far door, "Well, he's gonna have to be in class tomorrow. We'll get him then." From the bloodlust in her voice, Kyon wanted no part of the 'acquisition' of the poor guy. Plus, that meant not having to actually look into those demon eyes again. Later, Haruhi went into a kind of pensive state, no doubt pondering on how to corner the two seniors. After a solid hour of staring into space, she looked outside and jumped up.

"I'm leaving. Lock the door on your way out." she said with little emotion, signalling a jittery Koizumi and stand and pack the Othello board back into his bag.

"I think I'll be going now as well. I'll see everyone tomorrow!" No doubt off to report to his superiors, the esper rushed after the brigade leader, his shoes squeaking loudly in the silent school.

Haruhi strode out of the front door and looked all around her. The evening sun stained the sky a fiery orange, the silhouetted trees drawing the light from the sky and framing the horizon. She suddenly felt a sense of hope, like something big was coming. With a little flutter in her chest, Haruhi took a deep breath and set off down the hill that led to the school. The air suddenly smelled delicious and she felt so much lighter. Could it all be due to those three students?

Her mind began to wander as she crossed the train tracks and the sun seemed to have been weighted, as the moon was already rising and the sun had already disappeared. As Haruhi meandered on towards home, she couldn't help but notice the shadows wobble and move at the outskirts of each lamp light. She pulled her coat a little further around her and shrunk into her shoulders as a metal bin was hurled over and voices started to wheeze laughter in the shadows. As the sound of footsteps started to echo behind her and the crawl of traffic disappeared, Haruhi couldn't help but turn and stare into the darkness. The shapes were indistinct, but she could sense the electricity of an excited crowd creeping after her. She started to back away from the laughing crowd, but her back hit something solid that wasn't there before. She wheeled and her breath caught as the putrid smell of old tobacco and hard liquor poured onto her from the man's chest. She looked up into his face and found a nose that looked like it had been broken a dozen times shadowing a mouthful of gold-plated or totally missing teeth. His skull cap clung tightly to his shaven head, as did his beer-soaked vest to his huge barrel chest.

"Hey, little lady," he breathed into her face, flashing his shining teeth and flexing his thick arms whilst the men that tailed Haruhi laughed maniacally. The man took a deep swig of the potent drink that looked too small in his huge grasp, "What're you doin' in this side of town?" He started to lurch forward, forcing Haruhi to back away. She couldn't find her voice to scream as the situation's reality suddenly hit her hard. She backed right into the street light so the gang that followed her were forced into the light. Their hoods and skull caps kept their bowed heads hidden from whatever help might have been around, but Haruhi wasn't holding out much hope. The leader staggered back up to her and slammed his palm against the metal pole with such force that the light shook, making the shadows dance.

"Come on, little girl, come join the real party. Here," he pressed the bottle to her lips as she turned her head, the smell making her head spin. Suddenly, the leader spun as a symphony of curses rose and the sound of bodies being shunted out of the way sliced through the crowd.

"For me? Don't mind if I do!" A ghostly pale hand suddenly shot out and seized the bottle, the leader and Haruhi following the arm. The intruder twirled the glass in his hand and sized up the half-full bottle before placing it to his lips and up-ending the bottle. The leader's faint eyebrows rose as the shorter figure gulped down the liquor, bubbles flooding into the bottle as the fiery drink disappeared down the intruder's throat. As the last drops of vodka were gulped away, the intruder gave a short sigh and licked his lips, holding the empty bottle out to the leader.

"'Stoli Elit,' huh? Classy. Thanks for that, I needed it." Haruhi's jaw dropped and the leader began to snarl as none other than Alistair Clarke's clear golden eyes glowed just beneath his hair. He took Haruhi's hand firmly and began to lead her away, but the crowd suddenly swelled and blocked him. Haruhi was still in shock, barely comprehending the legion of darkened figures that crept closer into the light. She was more concentrated on the painfully skinny figure in the North High uniform. She had wished for a saviour and she got this skinny Brit?

"Is there anything else I can help you gentleman with?" The light above him began to buzz as the leader snarled and smashed the bottle against the pole and loosened a wire. Clarke smiled widely as the light flickered, making his insane smile blink and his sharp features emphasising further to make him look like a walking skeleton.

"Miss. Suzumiya, please stay behind me." he hummed quietly, letting go of Haruhi's hand and gently pushing her away, facing the street full of thugs without fear.

"You wanna dance, you uptight little bastard?" The leader hissed, flicking a switchblade the length of Clarke's forearm from his boot. The thugs laughed and spat at Clarke, who just cocked his head like a fascinated child. "Let's dance!" The thugs laughed and whooped like primeval beasts as the leader and Clarke bent their knees and began to circle, one with a knife and the other with his pale fists.

"Come on, Shank, cut 'im!" one of the thugs called, the leader faking a few jabs, but Clarke didn't flinch. As the light flickered and went out, the gang started to howl and the sound of a crunch and choking suddenly erupted from the fight. As the white light came back, the leader, Shank, was holding his knife at arm's length and clutching his throat, retching painfully whilst Clarke rocked back and forth on his heels, chuckling.

"Who did that?" he called accusingly to the crowd, laughing his lungs out as Shank stood and lunged. The crowd was going insane and Haruhi was frozen in the shadows, watching as the towering man sliced for the North High student, but Clarke seemed to have some tricks up his sleeve. With every swing, he just leaned and slid away, curving his slim body to impossible angles to dodge the blade by millimetres. With a barking laugh, Clarke rolled around a lunge, leaned into a crouch and slammed his palm across Shank's knee. The man's huge legs were partially covered by a pair of torn basketball shorts, allowing the entire gang to see his knee cap roll ninety degrees under the strike from the sixteen year old boy. Shank screamed a deep below and fell, silencing the gang as he groaned on the floor. Clarke did a little pirouette before bowing mockingly to the gang, his smile not faltering and his breathing still calm.

"You'll pay for that, you little shit!" another gang member screamed. Even in the semi-light, Clarke and Haruhi could clearly see the flashes of knives and chains unsheathing. Haruhi rushed forwards and grabbed Clarke's arm, shaking with fear.

"What're you going to-"

"Miss. Suzumiya," he said softly, making her take her eyes off the bristling gang and to his face. For the first time ever, Haruhi met Clarke's eyes and she suddenly felt calm. His skin shone like an angel in the clinically white light, but that couldn't compare to the beautiful, intelligent glow of his eyes. The world around Haruhi suddenly didn't matter. All sound, the lukewarm autumn wind and the glint of cold steel, it all disappeared. Clarke occupied the world, and that was all Haruhi knew. He turned to her and curled his hand around her head, his intoxicating scent and smooth voice the only thing that mattered, "Listen to me; I will let no harm come to you, understand?" He pulled her away and looked her in the eye stilling her heart, "Trust me." he crooned, letting go of her hand. She nodded without breath and drifted back into the shadow, not taking her eyes off of Clarke's smile as the gang rushed in.

Clarke didn't make a move as the men swarmed up behind him and seized his arms, locking them behind his back and presenting his chest for the rest of the gang. One man, a skinny little rat with huge buckteeth, skipped forwards and snatched Shank's knife from his grip, heading straight for the still Clarke. As he lunged, the light flickered again and didn't stop, casting a bright strobe on the entire scene. To Haruhi, the sound reached her ears at the right time, but the images were that of a stop-motion film. Clarke's legs suddenly flicked up, hitting the man hard in the chin. Displaying upper body strength that was surprising for someone of his stature, Clarke tensed up and rolled his entire body over his captor's shoulders, causing their heads to slam together and their grip to disappear.

Even as Clarke flexed his shoulders confidently, he could tell at a glance that the gang was swelling into the night. There was no way he could keep both himself and Haruhi safe without shedding some blood. Muttering to himself what appeared to be a sort of prayer, he flexed his fists and prepared for a fight-

The horn blared and cut through the night. The whoops and whistles stop and all heads turned in unison to the powerful growling engine that sat amidst the hulking metal figure. The high-beams bloomed into life and glared down the gang members, the engine roaring like a great lion as the wheels screeched like an eagle, suddenly gaining traction and rampaging at the gang. Clarke backed up and hugged Haruhi's head into his shoulder, shielding her eyes as the glaring lights scattered the crowd. Within seconds, the street had emptied as the confused and disorganized group dispersed, the huge car squealing to a stop beside the two students, the door popped open and Haruhi allowed Clarke to guide her inside.

As he slammed the door and the car bossed its way back onto the road, Haruhi got a chance to look around. Clarke was sitting across from her in a chair that faced the back of the car, a long pane of privacy glass separating the driver's cabin from the spacious back. As the white-haired boy popped his knuckles and took a few deep breaths, Haruhi's hand was taken and stroked soothingly by none other than Rébecca Giles, who smiled kindly to her as Sanjit, who sat beside Clarke, glared out of the window and watched the roads.

"Clarke, you smell like ethanol. Tum bevakuuf ho." he growled to the snowy-haired boy without looking at him, muttering insults under his breath in Hindi. Clarke laughed and rubbed his forehead as the car rolled around another corner,

"Well, I'm a talented idiot then, aren't I? I just downed half a bottle of what felt like lit oil and fought off armed thugs whilst you, _Wisdom_, sat here in the car." Sanjit turned and glared at his younger, clenching his fist as if daring the boy to a fight for using such a disrespectful tone and for mocking his name. Clarke only smiled slightly insanely back, tempting him to swing first. Rébecca cleared her throat and the two boys looked away from each other, the electricity in the air remaining. She turned her delicate face to Haruhi and smiled sympathetically,

"Well, it's a good thing that Alistair found you when he did. Are you alright, Miss. Suzumiya? Those awful men did not 'urt you, did they?" Haruhi looked down to her hands and found that they were shaking. What just happened?

"Say," she began slowly, feeling the warmth of the car and large leather seats calming her nerves, "How did you guys find me?" The car was silent. No one met her eye, not even Clarke. Rébecca sighed and took up the explanation,

"Alistair decided to walk home, but our house keeper does not like it if we are late, so Sanjit and I came out looking for him. It was a good thing we found you when we did or something terrible might have happened-"

"And come to think of it, why did you help me? And how come you all know my name-"

"Sebastian!" Clarke suddenly cut her off, rapping the privacy glass briskly, "We're here. Pull over." At his command, the car swerved and came to a smooth stop, Clarke hopping out of his seat and opened the door for Haruhi. They were astonishingly close to her home already, all the way across town from the school. "Please go straight home, Miss, you've had a rough experience today and I'd hate for you to get ill over it." He gave a well-honed bow and gave a curt nod with his smile, "Good evening, Miss. Suzumiya." Looking into those eyes, Haruhi knew that he was right. He knew what was best. With as strong a nod as she could muster, she turned and headed for home in a dreamy state, her feet leading her absent mind all the way to the door. Clarke just stood in the streetlight, watching her back as she meandered away. As she disappeared, he turned to see Sanjit glaring at him from the car before slamming the door in his face, the driver taking off before the youngest boy had a chance to say anything. Left in the cold dark, Clarke just sighed for the childishness of his elder and started home, unaware of the car that crawled after him.

* * *

><p>Arakawa twitched his moustache as the target was left behind by the others, forcing him to walk. The old man shook his head,<p>

"How ruthless. These are clearly a group that thinks very highly of themselves, Koizumi, and even the little one is capable in a fight. You'll want to keep your distance as much as possible." The brunette adjusted himself in the passenger seat as the head of white hair glowed in the street light,

"You know, it's at times like this that I wish that I was fighting the shinji instead of being on the front line with Miss. Suzumiya." Arakawa chuckled and clicked the car back into gear, tailing the boy through the late evening. It didn't take long for the boy to reach his destination, but it surprised Koizumi greatly when Clarke slipped into a towering, upper-class apartment building. The very same building that Nagato lived in. Arakawa brought the disguised Agency taxi into the car park, but found that the large luxury 4x4 that they had been following was not there.

"Looks like we'll be in for a long night." Arakawa moaned after three hours passed and Clarke still hadn't emerged, "Judging by the way they left him to walk, I get the feeling that Clarke isn't accepted amongst Ahmed and Giles?" Koizumi yawned and considered this,

"From what Miss. Kimidori told me, Winchester Academy is for the country's elite and follows militaristic tradition. Perhaps the two seniors see themselves as a higher rank or echelon and refuse to be seen with Mr. Clarke?" On they talked, theorising as a way to fight off sleep as the hours crawled by. Before Koizumi knew it, he was waking up to the early morning sun on his face and a very stiff neck. He groaned and stretched, remembering that he was still in the car and bumping his head on the roof. The noise made the old man jump and awaken from his snoring sleep. His eyes suddenly burst open and he stared at the entrance of the building desperately,

"Damnit! Who knows if he came back out during the night?" He ran his fingers through his iron grey hair and sighed, checking his watch, "Sorry Koizumi, but I'm afraid it's already time for school. Here," Arakawa reached into his pocket and tossed a few notes to Koizumi, "Go get yourself some breakfast and a coffee, try and wake up before school opens." Stepping out into the cool air, Koizumi adjusted his hair and straightened his jacket, dreading the day ahead.

* * *

><p>Mr. Okabe struggled to draw the class' attention back onto him when the transfer student entered the class.<p>

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" he bellowed over the din, finally calming the small class, "Now, I know you're all excited to have a new student, but remember to do your school proud. Now, where's there a spare space?" A big mistake. Clarke lifted his head and swept his eyes across the room with a sly smile, his gaze causing shunting all around, students trying to clear the place for the new guy.

"Mr Okabe, sir," Clarke referred to him with the same tone as a corporal addressing his field commander, "I believe there's a seat just there." He pointed his thin arm to the back of the class, to Asakura's old seat. The one right beside Kyon.

_Called it. _Clarke made his way to the back of the class and sat in silence, sitting with a perfectly straight back and his arms folded neatly. All through the day, he didn't take his eyes from the front of the class, answering each question by standing first, perfectly wording in fluent Japanese and ending every sentence with 'sir.' At lunch, he quickly rose and escaped the room before anyone could invite him to their table. As Kyon headed for the canteen, he saw the three exchange students in one of the corners eating in silence, all other chairs around them having mysteriously disappeared.

Kyon spotted Koizumi with his head on the table and Mikuru sitting across from him, looking out of place beside the esper. Not seeing either of his friends around, Kyon decided to go sit with them; he still needed to ask Koizumi about his... experience.

"What's up with him?" he asked as he sat, the esper barely stirring. Mikuru smiled softly,

"I think Koizumi was working with his... friends last night. I think they've been working him too hard." Someone knocked Koizumi's chair and he jumped back into reality, his hair plastered to the side of his face and drool sticking to his chin.

"Smooth." Kyon commented with his lip curling. Koizumi looked at him through squinted eyes before rubbing his face.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" He stretched out his arms and made his back pop uncomfortably before falling back onto the desk and continuing his nap. _Great, good to know I can count on you. Haruhi's mysteriously gone, Miss. Asahina can't really be counted on for help and Koizumi looks likes the walking dead. But as always, there's one I know I can count on. That petite little alien that sits in the Literary Clubroom and reads her books. Nagato will have the answers._

As the final thirty minutes of the school day poked its head around the door, the hum of after school plans began to circulate. Some of the guys and some of the girls broke off mid-sentence to check if Clarke was listening in, sometimes throwing his name into the mix to try and get his attention, but to no avail. He remained distant, disciplined, eyes forward and taking notes the whole time. When the bell rang, a few students had the tenacity to grab onto his arm and physically pull him into the conversation, but he just politely refused them and made his way with increasing urgency to the door. As he finally reached the door frame, he tried to dive outside, but another set of hands just held him back. His omnipresent energetic bordering on insane smile faltered as he checked his watch and tried to pull away from their grip, but they held on. He eventually tugged hard enough to pull his head around the door, crane his neck and yell,

"Emiri!" Suddenly, the girl with the green hair appeared beside him. Using a surprising amount of force, he grabbed the girl and pulled her close, whispered something to her and gave her a push down the hall. Even over the emptying class, Kyon could see the oddly coloured hair race past the frosted glass of the classroom with haste. Scooping up his bag, Kyon rushed to the mêlée and pushed his way through the crowd.

"Hey, Alistair, sorry for taking so long, let's go!" Taking his momentum and surprise to his advantage, he tugged Clarke out of the crowd's grasp and led him down the hall. Once they were on the stairs, Clarke pulled away from him and stared at him. His snarl twitched and perked at the corners until it grew it to a look of fascination. He was the same height as Kyon, making it a little awkward for him to not look him in the face.

"Oh, it's you!" Clarke started to laugh throatily, cocking his head and staring intently into Kyon's face. Kyon expected him to jump at him, to scream something suddenly, to threaten him with death or tell him that he was a wizard, anything to explain what happened yesterday, but his actual answer was far more surprising.

* * *

><p><em><span>Summary, followed by IMPORTANT Author's Note!<span>_

Well, here we go again. In the months leading up to the New Year, a period of silence falls over the SOS Brigade. Their movie finished and the festivals out of the way, Haruhi falls into a state of boredom and anticipation. Could it be coincidence that three students suddenly transfer to North High? Introducing three new students, an Indian, a Frenchman and a Brit all march out onto the stage, each distinctly different from the last. First Is Sanjit Ahmed, a heavily built blonde senior with scowling eyes. The second is Rébecca Giles, another senior, a pencil-thin French girl with a timid face and cold ice blue eyes, she has instantly gained a lot of popularity with the boys from her looks. The third is a junior named Alistair Clarke, a British boy with hair white as snow and eyes of amber, accompanied by an almost insane smile. The headmaster informs the students that these three new pupils are from Winchester Academy, a school for the 'gifted.'

As they are taken for a tour around the school in the company of one of the teachers, the whole school is eager to get a closer look from their seats. Apart from, of course, our cynical narrator Kyon. But he's not going to get off that easily. As he glances up and follows the crowd's gaze, Clarke turns his head down the rows. As luck would have it, their eyes meet. For one second that seemed like many, Kyon's mind was locked in some kind of mental assault. The colour drained from around him, all noise was dulled and his body refused to move. Even time seemed to stretch as the eyes of Clarke glared at him. But then the eye contact was broken, the effect falling with it. Dazed and confused, Kyon spent the rest of the school day listening to Haruhi's ramblings whilst Clarke failed to show.

As the bell rang and the school emptied, Kyon met Koizumi emerging from his class. The two made their way to the clubroom, but Kyon caught the sound of expensive footwear a little way off. Slowing their pace, they found it to be Clarke, walking suspiciously alone, seemingly with a purpose. Claiming that the Agency had assigned him to investigate the new students, Koizumi and Kyon tail Clarke. After dodging in and out of shadow, Clarke seemed to have a rendezvous with the seldom seen Emiri Kimidori, who mysteriously appeared to supply the SOS Brigade with a loose-ended case.

Linking arms with the student whom no one has talked to yet, Kimidori accompanies Clarke to the entrance of the auditorium. Koizumi and Kyon are forced away as they stop and begin to backtrack, but are found by Kimidori. Subtly hinting that she was aware that she was being followed the entire time, a suddenly very serious looking Clarke appears beside her, glaring down the hall. Using a single gesture, Clarke orders Kimidori away, which she obediently follows, dragging Kyon and Koizumi with her.

Clarke straightens up to formally greet his two senior students, showing them to the auditorium. Meanwhile, Kimidori lets slip that Winchester Academy is actually not only for the mentally talented, but also follows a strict military code, accounting for the discipline and formality that a junior shared with the two seniors. Koizumi's investigation is cut short when Haruhi leaps down the stairs behind them and scorns them for not being present. During this time, Kimidori manages to slip away unnoticed. Informing the two rogue members that they'll be joining the hunt for new members, the rest of the SOS Brigade descends the stairs.

Haruhi tells Kyon that they have been searching for the Winchester students using Nagato's strange intuition, but as the alien girl walks on, Kyon notices that Nagato doesn't quite look right. As she reaches the end of the hallway, she begins to move at a faster pace, rushing ahead of the Brigade to reach the doors of the auditorium.

As the Brigade files into the large, empty room, they find that all of the lights are off bar the stage lights. On stage, the grand piano and microphone have already been set and the three Winchester students are taking their places. Clarke is seated at the piano, Giles is preparing her voice and the large Ahmed is tuning a violin. With a nod of confirmation from Giles, Clarke begins to play. Forgetting his intense smiles and strict greeting, Clarke relaxes into the music and begins to play in an almost dream-like state. Singing through her accent, Rébecca begins to sing _My Soul, Your Beats_. As the tempo increases, Ahmed skilfully adds the violin.

The Brigade are entranced as Clarke's passion for the song comes before them, swaying his entire body and thrashing passionately to the song, playing with ever-increasing gusto until his eyes glow and his feet tap to the rhythm. As the song ends, Clarke seems to come to his senses and tidies himself up, receiving Ahmed's omnipresent glare. The two seniors make their way out of the building via a fire exit, leaving Clarke alone on stage. Seeing her opportunity, Haruhi rushes through the dark and calls out to Clarke, who panics and takes after the other two. Pursuing him, Haruhi rushes out into the open air and takes a wide look around, but they have all disappeared.

Growing bored of the depression of her prey escaping, Haruhi packs and leaves the Brigade clubroom. She feels her spirits lift and is filled with hope, for the Brigade was soon to recruit three new members who were bound to attract trouble. Lost in thought, Haruhi heads home a little too slowly, wandering into town during the early dark of autumn. Suddenly very aware of the fact that she was alone, Haruhi realises that she is being followed by a small drunken mob. She runs head-long into Shank, the burly leader of the gang. She is forced into a back-pedal until she back into a lamp-post, Shank pressing a half-drunk bottle of premium vodka to her lips. Surrounded by the mob on the outskirt of the lamplight with the towering Shank before her, her situation is grim. That is, until, a pale hand seizes the vodka and downs the remainder of the bottle in one.

Thanking the huge man and handing him back his empty bottle, Clarke steps into the light and attempts to lead Haruhi away. He is blocked by a fuming Shank and gently pushes Haruhi against the wall, standing in the lamplight and bravely facing a force of unknown magnitude. Shank pulls a switchblade and Clarke can only raise his fists, but his smile portrays either a very brave or very stupid confidence. As Shank slashes for him, he displays incredible prowess in combat, despite his incredibly thin and bony body, dodging each swing perfectly. Getting bored of the fight, Clarke dodges one final time and slams his open palm across Shank's knee, forcing his patella to twist and dropping the huge man.

Amidst a shocked silence, Haruhi clings to Clarke's arm, allowing the Brit to lock his eyes onto her own. In a moment, Haruhi has much the same experience to Kyon's, albeit a far more desirable one. Her heart is calmed and she experiences an overwhelming feeling of safety as the total stranger holds her close and guarantees her safety. In a daze, Haruhi agrees and returns to her position in the shadows.

With their leader down, the gang pulls their weapons and attack, two men grabbing his arms and restraining them behind his back, but Clarke doesn't retaliate. Using the damaged lights to his advantage, he waits until he is charged with a knife and the lights go off. In a moment of strobing darkness, Clarke knocks out the three men with ease, but knows that he will have to cause the rest of the gang critical and even fatal injuries to protect himself and the total stranger that is Haruhi.

In the nick of time, a 4x4 containing Rébecca and Sanjit scares the disorganized mob away, picks up Clarke and Haruhi and speeds off. Whilst Haruhi catches up with herself, Rébecca consoles her and Clarke sinks into an uneasy silence, a glaring match with Sanjit setting a tense mood. Tactically dodging the fact that they had been referring to her by name without having met anyone within North High, Rébecca explains that Clarke had decided to take a different route home to the two seniors and that it was sheer good luck that he had found Haruhi when he did, and that Rébecca and Sanjit had only found them as they were searching for Clarke.

They drop Haruhi off near to her house, Clarke stepping out to watch her go. As Haruhi disappears from his view, Clarke turns just in time to see Sanjit slam the car's door in his face, the luxury vehicle driving away and leaving its comrade in the dark.

All the while, Arakawa and Koizumi had been tailing Clarke, keeping tabs on his movements. Opting not to follow the 4x4, they continue to follow the Brit, who meanders his way through the town until approaching the large apartment complex that looms over the town. The very same that Nagato lives in. The two espers notice that something is amiss when Clarke doesn't exit the structure and the luxury 4x4 doesn't reappear in the parking lot.

Hours later, Koizumi and Arakawa awaken to find that they had both fallen asleep on watch, leaving a huge gap of time that they have lost Clarke. Still barely awake and aching from sleeping so awkwardly, Koizumi makes his way to school. In Kyon's class, Haruhi has taken a day off to mysteriously recover and Clarke causes uproar by sweeping his eyes over the class, scanning for an open seat. He final takes his seat beside Kyon, the seat that had belonged to Ryoko before her deletion by Nagato. As he sits, he talks to no one and his manic smile disappears in place of a blank stare, as if he were lining up for drill. It isn't until the final bell rings that Kyon's day gets interesting.

Clarke immediately makes for the door, but is harassed by constant streams of students asking over his plans. He gets increasingly desperate as time draws on, eventually dragging himself to the doorway and calling for Emiri. Kimidori appears beside him and he roughly pulls her closer, whispering something to her before pushing her down the hallway. She takes off at a run and Kyon sees his chance to take on some questioning of his own. Storming through the groups, Kyon pulls Clarke to an empty staircase, at which point Clarke's smile blooms once more when he recognises Kyon.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

The song that the Winchester Students were playing, 'My Soul, Your Beats,' is a piece by 'LiSA.' It's used as an opening to the anime 'Angel Beats.' I highly suggest you go onto YouTube and watch it right now for two reasons; 1. It rocks, both the anime and the song. 2. It shows the Japanese lyrics at the top of the screen. It sent shivers down my spine to write the passion that I could see Clarke playing with and the effect is only multiplied when you can actually hear the music and know the piano's tempo increasing. Watch the lyrics carefully and watch for when Rebecca's second line of dialogue is sung and you'll see what I mean.

Also, as a weird side note, notice that the girl from the anime who plays the piano on the opening has white hair and golden eyes. It took me a few times to realise it, but that girl is the female Clarke! I started Clarke's character long before I watched Angel Beats, so I was devastated to know that my original character's looks weren't original at all :( Here's the Youtube link for you;

/watch?v=xS-r_JzKTug

Sorry about it having some German subtitles, this is the only HQ one with the Japanese lyrics :3

As a final note, I'd like to directly address those who have already read 'Waited;'

You have the advantage of knowing that Clarke has a limited control over data, is some form of alien and referred to himself as a 'foreman' and saw himself as superior to the children of the Data Integration Thought Entity. We also know that he has some kind of connection to the D.I.T.E and is a highly capable and devious mind. Also, please consider that I never said that Alistair Clarke was a good guy, his actions in Waited were dictated by nothing but love.

So armed with that bit of revised knowledge, please leave me your theories on the 'foreman' and other students of Winchester Academy and their mysterious purpose in North High in the reviews! Until next time!


	2. The Fight Begins

"Ta." He gave an airy salute before turning and trotting back down the stairs, smiling as if nothing had happened. Kyon was left in shock as the sound of footsteps disappeared, that was it? That was all he had to say?

"Hey! Hey, wait!" Kyon threw himself against the guard rail, but Clarke just descended the stairs without another look for him. No way was he getting away with that.

_Oh no, am I really doing this again? Damnit, this is so pointless!_ Kyon scorned and cursed himself continuously as he set of after Clarke, who seemed to have a spring in his step today. Kyon soon recognised his path and realised that he was heading back to the auditorium. Another 'meeting' with his other transfer students? Walking as casually as he could muster, Kyon headed after Clarke, readying his inquisition as he walked.

Mikuru made the temple, the steeple, the church and the people with her hands over and over again, trying to ease her anticipation. She was fretting over her orders; couldn't they get someone else to do it? It was a truly daunting task and not one that she felt would end well. It was even worse, considering that she would have to be stealthy with the only other person in the clubroom. Where was Koizumi? Why wasn't he here? He would make her look inconspicuous with that omnipresent smile beaming constantly. But no, Mikuru sat at the clubroom table alone, her target as silent as ever. She chanced a look over to the silent Nagato, who's eyes darted around the page of her book rapidly, reading faster than humanly possible. When Mikuru had been looking for a few seconds, Nagato silently raised her head and met her gaze, as if waiting to be addressed. Mikuru jumped and blushed, staring back down at her hands, unable to meet the alien's clear golden brown eyes. Out of all the people she had to tail, all the people who she had to spend hours watching for suspicious movements, why did it have to be the silent girl that terrified her?

Mikuru checked her watch; it was almost time for the anomaly to take place. Nagato, breaking tradition massively, looked up to the clock, staring at the dials as if she were having trouble comprehending what it meant. She stared at it for a few seconds and her shoulders seemed to sag a little, her jagged lavender hair brushing her almost pensive face. She looked like a person who had something vitally important to do but had forgotten it, accepting the inevitability that they would never remember it. Mikuru took a deep breath as the interface slid a bookmark onto the page and stood silently, heading for the door without a word of explanation. Mikuru braced herself for something major, but Nagato just opened the door, slipped out and closed it softly behind her. Tick, tick, tick. The clock went on. Time went on. Space went on. Everything just carried on as normal, as if the alien girl's actions meant nothing. Mikuru's heart rate picked up as she fumbled inside of her jacket for the tiny sliver of paper with her orders on.

"Anomalies detected, worrying analysis, follow the alien." she read aloud slowly, trying to comprehend something else from the note. There followed a pair of times that marked the anomalies and, according to Mikuru's watch, the first anomaly had just occurred. 'Follow the alien'. Mikuru gasped as she realised that the alien was getting away and stumbled to the door, opening it as quietly as possible and peaking out. Nagato was down the hall, descending the stairs with such grace and such ease that her skirt barely fluttered, but something was wrong; she was blinking more, checking her surroundings as she walked, as if something was buzzing around her head. Mikuru tip toed out of the door and followed the girl who made her way through the school with an increasing look of urgency. Nagato suddenly stopped and stood totally still, a few straggler students passing her still form as if she weren't even there. Fearing that she had been found, Mikuru scrambled to enter the nearest classroom. She fumbled with the door and slammed the handle, tumbling through with a squeal and knocking over every single mop and broom in the supply cupboard with a tremendous crash. Her breath hitched as she covered her mouth; she was supposed to be watching Nagato for anything strange, but now that she had made so much noise, Nagato would come to investigate. And if she came to investigate, she wouldn't be following the correct course of time and then something wouldn't go the right way and Mikuru would get shouted at and then-

Why wasn't Nagato here? Mikuru looked up in the hall from her place amongst the dark cleaning supplies, expecting to see the alien's blank facing but instead finding a window and an empty hallway. Fearing that time had already started erasing reality, Mikuru scrambled to her feet and teetered out of the door. Thankfully, time had allowed that little mishap, as Nagato was still in the halls... Hiding? She was no longer standing in the middle of the deserted hall, but had her tiny body pressed against the side of a locker, peering around it and watching the adjacent hall. She wasn't paying the commotion behind her the slightest bit of attention, focusing wholly on watching the empty hall.

Mikuru pulled out a pink notepad and a pencil from her school blazer and started to take notes on Nagato's strange movements. As she looked up to check on Nagato, she was surprised to see the alien girl with her back flat against the wall, her eyes suddenly wide as if in shock. She was staring straight ahead, luckily still side-on to Mikuru. But what could have made the emotionless Nagato look so-

The eyes. Those two eyes that blazed through the waves of futile snow. Those eyes that roared flames and promised bliss in equal measure. Those eyes of purest amber. Staring at Mikuru from down the hall. Her breath caught in her throat as the boy cocked his head and stared still, as if waiting for Mikuru to make a move. He was far away, but she could still see the glow in his eyes and the shine of his teeth. He turned to her and swept his arm beneath him, giving a courteous bow to Mikuru before continuing on. Mikuru felt her legs tremble and leaned heavily against a wall, catching her breath. Just what was that? And did Nagato dodge that? Was she hiding from it before he could look at her? Or was she already affected? Mikuru looked back to Nagato, who was doing something else odd for her; she was tip-toeing down the hallway, leaning her body to try and peek around the next corner before she crossed it. Just what was going on with her? Was she acting this way because of that new transfer student? And if so, to what end? She checked her watch; thirty seven seconds until the next anomaly. Could it involve that boy?

Kyon stopped dead in his tracks. Clarke had stopped suddenly, a hallway down to his left. He cocked his head as if he had remembered something before slowly turning his head to the side. His eyes focused before his eyes lit up and his smile grew a little wider. He turned with a click of his boots, straightened his back and bowed theatrically. With a small laugh, he just turned and carried on, turning right and disappearing into the auditorium. Kyon chose some tact and stayed where he was and wait for the person Clarke was greeting, probably the two other Winchester kids.

As the lavender haired girl teetered around the corner cautiously and checked the hall, Kyon's brain didn't immediately register what he was seeing. It was impossible, illogical and utterly ridiculous to picture Yuki Nagato doing anything with feeling. When he did fully realise the situation, however, he also had to calculate exactly why Nagato was also creeping after Clarke and why _Mikuru_ was creeping after _Nagato_!

Flailing his arms desperately, Kyon tried to flag down Mikuru to no avail, leaving him feeling extremely stupid. As Nagato disappeared around the corner, Kyon rushed forwards as silently as possible and tapped Mikuru on the shoulder, making her jump and head butt him in the chin.

"Oh no, Kyon?" she looked very surprised as she checked to see if she had been found by Nagato, keeping her voice to a whisper, "What are you doing here? Wait... if you're here then that means that you're part of the... oh no, I messed up again." She hung her head in shame before mumbling something about something else being classified, but gasped when she checked her watch. She looked back to Kyon with a smile that would have made all of the angels in the heavens weep, "There's still time! It hasn't happened yet!" Kyon, even more confused than he was before, opened his mouth to ask her what was going on, but she just turned and rushed after Nagato, jumping back and breathing deeply in shock as she nearly bumped into Koizumi, who looked equally shocked.

_What? He's here too? Miss. Asahina won't say what's going on, Nagato's being stranger than usual by being... not strange, and now Koizumi turns up? Oh man, I'm not gonna be able to handle school life if this keeps up._

Kyon approached Koizumi and Mikuru, who were having a whispered conversation, but stopped as Kyon arrived.

"It seems that we've all been brought together for one reason or another. How much time, Miss. Asahina?" asked Koizumi, showing her his wrist watch. She gave a little gasp and they both turned to the auditorium, where the still oblivious Nagato slowly made her way to the door.

"Any second now." she replied with an air of trepidation. Kyon followed their gaze and the three Brigade members watched in awe as Nagato stopped before the door. She looked suddenly stiff, indecisive, trying to turn her body away from the door but swaying back again. With a twitchy hand, she reached forwards and tentatively touched the door. Slowly, very slowly, she pushed open the door and peeked at the stage. The great Yuki Nagato, the girl who caught a knife and survived sharpened metal poles through her chest, was being cautious about being seen? The three crept behind the alien girl, who had still not moved from the door or stopped staring at the stage. They peered over her shoulder and found two voices echoing to their ears from the dark room.

"But that one is so sad!" Rébecca whined from the stage, "Can you not play something with more happiness?" She was sitting on the piano and swinging her legs easily whilst Clarke rested his chin on the music stand, eyeing her like a lazy dog watching its master.

"Then how about 'A Song That Ticks Time Away?' That love song that I like? You can sing that one like an angel." he asked, seeming very relaxed at the strange absence of Ahmed. Rébecca clapped excitedly,

"You know just how to compliment a lady, Alistair." She cleared her throat and beamed at the Brit as he sighed to the keys before him, flexing his fingers as they found their place. Once again, the SOS Brigade was captivated by the performance. Clarke smiled broadly as he swayed to the music and was serenaded by the French girl, who sung without a hitch. About half way through the song, Clarke played with even more passion, beaming to the girl as his crooning voice joined with hers, adding a soothing, deeper tone to the words that declared the student's love for one another. As they sung, Kyon noticed Mikuru hiccup and rub her eyes, which were bright red,

"Miss. Asahina, what's wrong?" Kyon asked urgently, the heartbreaking sight of the crying time traveller melting his icy heart.

"They make it sound so beautiful, don't they?" She wiped her tears away with her sleeve as Koizumi chuckled from behind them, his height allowing him to see over their heads,

"I must admit, despite their not coming from here, they certainly do the song justice. They seem to be very passionate about their music, especially Mr. Clarke." Koizumi broke from the sight of the stage and looked to Nagato, who was still peeking nervously around the corner.

"Miss. Nagato?" he asked, "Miss. Nagato, you seem very active today. Do you enjoy their music?" No reply, "Would you like to go and talk to them? They seem to enjoy themselves, maybe they'll play a song just for you." Still nothing. Koizumi sighed and shrugged helplessly to Kyon, who picked up the questioning.

"Hey, Nagato, I know there's something up with them and I can see you know it too. What is it with these guys that's got you so worked up that you came here all by yourself?" She didn't answer. Footsteps echoed behind them, Koizumi the only one turning and noticing the problem, as Kyon was trying to get an answer out of Nagato, Mikuru was still crying over the music and the alien was still captivated.

"Hostiles." she announced in her monotone, still watching the stage. Kyon blinked heavily and remembered those eyes that locked his body and gulped,

"Did... Did you just say 'hostiles?' As in, the bad guys?" Still not looking away, Nagato nodded. Kyon's heart nearly failed him at the combination of this news and the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. He turned to see some kind of giant or demon looming over him, thick arms folded across a barrel chest. Sanjit glared down at him without a word, exercising the authority he knew he commanded. Kyon just backed away from the door and pulled Mikuru with him, who squeaked and clutched his arm as the giant proceeded again, only to be blocked by Nagato, who was still only just peeking at the stage. Clarke and Rébecca were still playing in blissful ignorance to their comrade who was just outside the door, glaring down with silent fury at Nagato. He cleared his throat again, a look of disgusted horror creeping over his face. Koizumi reached out and tapped her shoulder,

"Miss. Nagato, I think that Mr. Ahmed needs to get past?" Still, the girl said and did absolutely nothing. What was wrong with her? Sanjit growled,

"Damnit, you little whelp, out of the way!" he suddenly roared, striding forwards and slamming his shoulder against the tiny Nagato as he walked. Her eyes shot open in surprise as her frail body was thrown forwards and her head clipped the door as the huge senior strutted into the darkness.

"Hey!" Kyon was suddenly filled with adrenaline as Nagato hit the floor, "What the hell is-" Suddenly, an unearthly sound pounded through the room and assaulted everyone's eardrums. In the semi-light, Sanjit and Koizumi tumbled and hit the floor, covering their ears from the resonating sound. Kyon's eyes watered as he looked to the stage, the source of the noise. Rébecca had fled from the piano and was shouting silence over the noise that slowly died down.

Only one person in the room hadn't attempted to escape from the pain, the same person who sat at its source and whose eyes burned brighter than the stage lights. With wires still vibrating, Clarke took his hands away from the keys and glared through the darkness, straight at Sanjit. The Brit glared a little while longer before releasing his foot from the pedals, letting the note die.

"Ahmed," he spoke through gritted teeth, his blissful pleasure gone from his face, "Can you tell me why Miss. Giles and I were interrupted so loudly a few moments ago?" His eye twitched slightly as Sanjit marched up to the stage with frightening speed,

"What the hell did you do that for? You could have deafened me!" Rébecca recovered and rushed over to Sanjit, who leaped up the stage and squared up to Clarke, who stood so fast that the piano stool fell to the ground.

"I'm aware of that, you high-nosed prick, that's why I did it. I'm also aware that you just attacked that girl that's now bleeding beside the door. Care to explain that?" His insane, terrifying smile started to grow as Sanjit began to flex his shoulders.

"Excuse me. Excuse me, please." a voice whispered from behind Kyon, making him jump as a dart of green flew by him. He watched in awe as none other than Emiri Kimidori ducked past the SOS Brigade and sprinted through the dark hall as fast as she could, heading for the fight.

"That's right, you upper-class little bastard, I did move that girl out of the way." Sanjit nodded to the door as if appreciating a work of his own art, "But it was her own fault. Little rat of a bookworm wouldn't move out of my way. And personally _Alistair_," he sneered mockingly, shoving his pudgy dark face into Clarke's sharp and pale one, "I don't think that you have the guts to do anything about it." Silence. Kimidori was still running, pattering up the stairs and rushing to the pair, Rébecca in close pursuit. Suddenly, Clarke laughed,

"Really? That a fact?" Showing incredible speed, Clarke grabbed a handful of Ahmed's shirt and slammed his head into the Indian's nose with full force, sending flecks of blood from the huge recoiling senior high into the air. Sanjit stumbled back, clutching his face as he roared. Clarke just laughed and started to bounce back and forth on his heels as Kimidori rushed to him.

"Mr. Clarke! Please, don't do this!" she begged, desperately pulling on his arm, but he just gently shrugged her off. Sanjit raised to his full height, the fresh blood pouring from his horrifyingly crooked nose and glinting in the bright stage light.

"You'll pay for that, you little swine." Sanjit rampaged at him, snorting through the blood like an enraged bull. Clarke dodged out of the way as best he could, but Sanjit was clearly expecting it, as he swung out his arm and caught Clarke hard in the back as he spun away. His golden eyes shot open as the air was forced from his lungs, Sanjit slowly pulling his enormous fist from Clarke's side, smirking down at the boy as he clutched his side and collapsed onto his knees, his head bowed.

"Look at you, Clarke." Sanjit murmured as the boy shook before him, retching and coughing up blood painfully whilst Rébecca and Emiri watched in horror. "You're so just, aren't you? The voice of what is right by your standards alone. You're British, aren't you? Have some pride! You're one of the elite, so have a damn sense of glory in your pathetic existence!" With another spurt of blood, Clarke gave a little shudder. "Is that it, Clarke? Nothing more? You disappoint me." Sanjit, blood still dripping onto his shirt, turned to walk away, but Clarke's breath hitched again and his body shook more violently. He raised his head to show his wide grin, blood slowly dribbling from his open mouth as he took another breath and laughed. He stood up without another word, wagging his finger accusingly at Sanjit as if he had been stealing from the cookie jar. Stretching slightly and testing his side, Clarke made his way to the piano and gently lifted the lid.

"You know, Ahmed, I enjoy music. I mean I _really _enjoy it. It can sing so many notes and can paint a scene better than a thousand words." Kyon, once ready to jump in and break up the fight, or help beat up Ahmed, whichever came first, stood in shock as Clarke reached into the bowels of the huge instrument and starting plucking at the strings. "I can make these strings sing of pride and glory, woe and happiness, heart break and love." There was a deep twang as Clarke's arm jolted. He lifted his hands to show the eight paper-thin wires that he had strung between his fingers and ripped from the instrument he seemed to adore. He flexed his wrist and pulled the wires taught between his fingers, creating a parallel mesh between his hands as he slowly approached Sanjit.

"And pain, Sanjit. They can sing of pain. Be it pain of the soul, pain of the heart or," he loosened the wires and snapped them taught again, drawing thin slivers of blood from the cut webs of his fingers, his smile still dripping blood onto his ruby lips and white skin, "Pain of the body. Here, Sanjit, let me play you some." Separating his hands, he took four wires in each hand and spread his arms wide like a conductor addressing his orchestra. In the same fashion, he started to twirl his hands and wave his arms, swaying to music that only he could hear.

"Hear it, Sanjit? I compose this for you." he announced without the slightest bit of aggression, actually sounding humble. Koizumi edged his way over to Mikuru and turned her away from the stage with a low, serious tone. Mikuru, terrified of the bloodshed by the two contrasting boys on stage, agreed immediately and rushed to Nagato, who lay still on the floor in the dark. The esper then approached Kyon, stepping behind him and murmuring,

"We may have a problem on our hands in a few moments." Kyon spluttered,

"What, you mean a bigger problem than that wad of muscle and that psychopath trying to kill each other?" he hissed back. Even in the darkness, Kyon could still see the taller boy nod. Koizumi pointed at the air above Clarke,

"We have the advantage of being in the shadow, but Mr. Ahmed can't see what we can. See that? That shimmer in the air above Mr. Clarke? That's our problem, and it's a serious one." Suddenly, a ghostly ring met Kyon's ears. From the stage, Clarke smiled widely,

"There, you must hear that, Sanjit? That melody is singing for you, Ahmed. Beautiful, isn't it?" The ringing grew more haunting and started to waver as Sanjit braced himself for an attack, but Clarke didn't make any such movement. He raised his arms above his head and started to twirl, swinging his arms low and sweeping back into the air like a madman. With a sudden slam of his heel, Clarke stopped his dance and smiled solemnly to Sanjit,

"But, my friend, even the greatest symphonies have to come to their end. Ahmed, I present to you," He brought his hands close to his chest and snapped his teeth at the invisible wires between his fingers, "My crescendo!" Sanjit was blissfully unaware of the sinister plot that was about to unfold. Kyon, however, had the whole situation explained to him by the esper as Clarke danced; Ahmed didn't realise the horrifying danger he was in but, remembering Nagato, Kyon was in no rush to warn him. As Clarke had danced, Koizumi had explained what he saw;

"You see that glint in the air? That little sliver of light every now and then? That's Mr. Clarke's piano wire. As he waves his hands, they're flowing through the air and only just catching the light, but I don't think Mr. Ahmed has realised that they're in the air at all." He paused and turned his head, sighing and looking flustered, his tone more urgent, "I think that ringing is the wire making noise as it moves." As Clarke started to twirl, Koizumi started to slowly pull Kyon away from the stage, "I knew it. He's ruthless. Watch the wires closely, you'll see what I mean." Kyon had squinted as hard as he could, watching for the flash and glimmer of one of the impossibly thin wires catching the light. Slowly, Kyon realised what Clarke was doing with the strings that had sliced through his skin without resistance; as he spun and waved, the wires were floating and curling around Ahmed, coiling around his body like snakes.

As Clarke stood with teeth bared, clenching the air, Sanjit just laughed and spread his arms wide,

"Is that it? A little noise and some bloodied teeth are going to hurt me?" Clarke stayed perfectly still, not even blinking in response, "Not answering a superior, huh? Fine, I guess I'll come back up there and force-" Clarke suddenly barked out a laugh of triumph and threw his arms to his side. There was a shrill screech as the wires glistened and ran though his teeth, but the noise was drowned by Ahmed. With his back to the stage lights, the Brigade could see the cross-hatch cuts gouge into Ahmed's arms and tear his skin. Ahmed roared in agony and stumbled back, blood pouring from his thick arms as he desperately pulled against Clarke's string. The huge Indian thrashed and pulled against the wires that pinned his arms to his side, only succeeding at slowly cutting himself deeper. Clarke wasn't fairing much better; though his smile still gleamed with joy and blood, the strain of holding the larger Sanjit in the wire trap was causing great strain on his hands, the wires slowly sinking deeper and deeper into his the webs of his hands and through his fingers.

"Stop! Just stop it!" Kimidori screamed, tears starting to fall from her face as the two boys bled each other, but they payed no attention.

"You're so damn proud, Ahmed!" Clarke called, shifting his foot and bracing himself to hold the giant, "And now look at you, struggling and squealing like a stuck pig! I'll make you choke as you swallow your honour even if it costs me both my hands!" With one great tug, Sanjit screamed and threw his entire weight backwards, finally dragging Clarke from the stage and making him soar through the darkness, hitting the floor hard. Sanjit rolled and gasped, the cuts on his arms so thin and bleeding so little, but burning like hot iron. But the strings were loose and he saw his chance as Clarke regained, rolling away from the invisible mesh and wincing over his wounds. The lights suddenly burst on and illuminated the room and the two fighters, blood dripping from Sanjit's nose and arm whilst Clarke's streamed from his lips and fingers.

"Stop this, both of you!" Rébecca barked to them as they both stood, still glaring each other down as they flexed for their next brawl, "We're all the same, can't you two see that? We may not come from the same place and we may have different values, but we're not that different." Clarke laughed,

"Wish I could agree with you, my dear, but the whimpering behemoth of ego before me has had this coming to him for a long time. Assaulting a lady?" Clarke snorted, gesturing to Nagato, who was slowly rising to her hands and knees with the help of the time traveller, "Have you no shame to accompany that ridiculous pride?" Sanjit, arms barely raised, tried to rush Clarke again, but he was too far away. The Brit grinned and flicked the blood-flecked hair from his face, his smile showing that he wasn't done yet either. He extended the forefinger and middle finger of both his hands and pointed them at Ahmed, as though he were going to shoot him with a pair of invisible guns. With a tiny flash of light, he crossed his hands over and rushed them back again, not saying a word-

"Sanjit, wait!" Rébecca suddenly wailed, the noise stopping the boy in his tracks. He froze on the spot and gave a little gasp, his face suddenly very worried as his eyes rolled and looked to the floor. Rébecca turned her horrified gaze to Clarke and she shook her head,

"Oh, Alistair, would you really do this?" The Brit didn't meet her eye as he chuckled. He sucked in a deep breath and blew the air before him, a high-pitched whistle flowing from his hands. As the sound travelled, Kyon watched the light glint oddly. From between his four fingers, Clarke was holding two vibrating wires. As they vibrated like a great violin, the light travelled along it, illuminating its entire path. From Clarke's fingers, the wires travelled all the way to Sanjit, two lines glowing around the Indian's neck.

"Well, Ahmed?" asked Clarke, cocking his head, "Carry on running at me, then. I'm wide open!" Sanjit didn't move a muscle as the strings calmed and the ring stopped. Very slowly, Clarke started to move his hands apart, pulling the knotted strings across one another. Sanjit's eyes flew open as the wires tightened, pressing into his skin and forming a terrifying noose. "Now I've got you." He pulled a little tighter, forcing Ahmed to drop to his knees and gasp for breath. It was a terrible sight; the senior so great and proud, unable to escape the pitiful choking death bestowed upon him by the junior.

"Alright! Enough!" Sanjit suddenly choked, his dark face turning maroon with blood, "I yield! I give up, damnit!" His voice was like a strangled duck but, in the face of death, he didn't seem to care. Clarke turned his head to the two girls,

"Rébecca, would you be a dear and escort Sanjit back home? Only I think he's going to try and attack once I loosen these strings and this time I won't hesitate to cut his neck to ribbons." His smile didn't betray his words; it wasn't as insane as it was, it was just sinisterly happy. He was really ready to kill a person? What kind of school raised people like this?

The French nodded her agreement and took the still choking Sanjit's arm. Wincing slightly as the wires finally left his pale torn skin, Clarke relaxed his fingers and let the strings fall loose. As if by automatic reaction, Emiri gently took his wrist and stood slightly before him, her body blocking his as Rébecca led Sanjit out by the wrist. She was protecting him? As the two seniors made their exit silently out of the fire escape, Clarke finally sighed and observed his hands.

"Wow, that smarts." he chuckled to himself and just put them back by his side, walking over to Nagato with purpose. As the footsteps approached, Nagato raised her head. Her brow was cut and blood was framing the side of her face, but that wasn't what was scaring Kyon. It was the expression of shock and glimmer of fear she bore as the bleeding boy approached her.

"Do you see them?" Koizumi asked quietly, scanning Clarke's wake as he smiled down to the alien girl, "The wires, is he still carrying them?" Kyon joined the search but couldn't see the tell-tale glimmer of the deadly strings.

"You poor thing, look at you." Clarke crooned, kneeling beside Nagato and smiling at her expression, "That scared you, didn't it? Well, not to worry. He's learned his lesson, he won't touch you again. Here." He held out his sliced and cut hand to Nagato with a smile, blood still rapidly dripping from his fingertips and pooling on the floor beside her. The small alien girl looked as stunned as if she had just dodged a bullet, not meeting the boy's glistening eyes as she reached up and put her hand in his. They stood together and Nagato quickly retrieved her hand, which was now smeared in Clarke's blood. Clarke reached to her chin and rolled her head up towards his own, smiling with his blood-stained teeth at the girl. Kyon felt a jolt of worry, was he doing to Nagato what he had done to him during the assembly?

"Hmm, poor thing." Clarke repeated, cocking his head. Kyon breathed a sigh of relief; he was just checking the cut, "That doesn't seem serious. You'll recover from that in no time." He turned to Mikuru, who looked like she was about to scream or faint from the constant sight of blood. Clarke flourished his hand before speaking, "We meet again, Miss. Could you please take this girl to the bathroom and help her clean that wound?" Mikuru just nodded silently, pulling Nagato away from the grin that she couldn't take her eyes off of. Even as she was led out of the door, she craned her neck to catch those last glimpses of the smiling Clarke, as if transfixed. Standing in silence, apart from the constant dripping from Clarke's hands, the three boys stood, feeling the tension growing. Koizumi stepped up and cleared his throat, attracting Clarke's attention. It was only a slight movement, but Kyon could still see the worry in Kimidori's eyes as Clarke turned his smile to the two remaining members of the SOS Brigade.

"That was quite a display. You could be arrested for grievous assault if Mr. Ahmed were to tell the authorities what occurred here." Clarke cocked his head and laughed,

"You think that big fool would ever stoop as low as to contact the authorities?" Looking slightly ruffled at the indirect answer, Koizumi continued,

"That's a question that only you can answer. Speaking of which, I've caught word of your recent activities and frankly, you seem to be someone who is easily capable of being a menace to society with those kind of fighting skills." Clarke laughed again, though with far less humour,

"So you're the one who was tailing me that night. In the disguised taxi? I take it you're referring to the brawl I had with that mob?" Kyon shot Koizumi a questioning look, but Clarke was already talking again, "It seems, Mr. Koizumi, that you are mislabelling me. From my point of view, I have been dispensing justice, have I not? I defended the unarmed and scared Miss. Suzumiya from the gang and also put Mr. Ahmed in his place for his arrogance and so cruelly assaulting that sophomore girl." Koizumi just looked at him warily, as if trying to find a hole in a murder's alibi. "Also, gentlemen, I would appreciate it greatly if you kept this whole situation quiet? This feud is between myself and Ahmed, there is no need for you to concern yourselves-"

"Hold on a second, how do you know our names?" Kyon suddenly interrupted, finding the one piece of logic that he could enforce Nagato's strange claim with, "You haven't talked to a single person apart from those two other academy kids, so how is it you know Koizumi's and Haruhi's names?" Clarke just raised his eyebrow, looking as if his mind had stalled. But he just gave a wry smile and wiped away the dried blood from his lips with his sleeve.

"I may be new here, Kyon, but word of Miss. Suzumiya's infamous alien, esper and time traveller hunting brigade quickly reached my ears. Now, if you don't mind, I need to leave the premises before someone discovers that poor instrument over there. And the fairly copious amounts of blood, of course." he added as a side note. "Well, good evening to the both of you." Brushing his hands against his sleeves to clear the blood, Clarke disappeared out of the door. Kimidori had already silently started working of her own accord with a mop and bucket, cleaning the floors herself of blood and carefully picking up the wires.

"Miss. Kimidori?" Koizumi called, "How do you know these people? Really?" Kyon was surprised at Koizumi's sudden burst of blunt words, but said nothing as the girl shrugged and formed her answer,

"I was told to escort them around the school and help them settle in, but it seems that Mr. Ahmed and Mr. Clarke aren't on good terms. If you want my advice, Mr. Koizumi, keep your distance. What I've just seen makes me believe what Mr. Clarke has told me; Winchester Academy is brutal. Their students don't just learn, they compete. Through wits and fists. But that's all I know, I'm afraid." With that, she turned back to her work, leaving Koizumi to sigh,

"Well, this complicates things even further. I'll see you tomorrow, I need to go and think about what's going on here." Koizumi was in a world of his own as he made his way out of the door. As the door closed, Kyon's legs started to shake; a delayed reaction to the violence and horror that had just unfolded. This was bad, too dangerous to be coincidence. An academy that has its students fight each other and raises them as a breed of super-smart soldiers? Two boys who were at total ends with other and ready to tear each other to pieces any place, any time? This couldn't be coincidence. Haruhi had to be at the source of this.

_Summary, followed by Author's Note_

On the second day of the strange trio's appearance, Kyon decides to tail Clarke once more. He finds that Clarke heads back to the auditorium, but makes a far stranger discovery along the way. Nagato is showing more feeling than ever, actively hiding and sneaking after Clarke also, yet somehow totally oblivious to Mikuru's presence. On orders from her superiors, Mikuru tails Nagato and notes her strange movements, waiting to investigate the anomaly that was supposed to occur concerning the alien girl. It also appeared that Koizumi was following the lone Brit as the Brigade, bar its leader, all met outside of the auditorium.

It was there that Mikuru watched Nagato and waited for the occurrence. It was then that the girl faced the door with an aura of indecision, eventually swaying herself and opening the door. She peered through with one eye to watch Clarke and Giles on stage, who were idly debating a song that they both enjoyed. Deciding on their song, the two began to play and sing together, oblivious to their audience as Nagato was to the Brigade that breathed over her shoulder.

Noticing the alien girl's behaviour, Koizumi questions her without receiving any response, passing the role onto Kyon, whom she always talked to more than the others. When asked about what Nagato knew of the impossibly strange students, she simply replied 'hostiles.'

Seemingly late, Ahmed approached the auditorium, Koizumi alerting the Brigade and allowing them to clear a path, but Nagato was oblivious to the boy. Ahmed, tired of kept waiting by someone as insignificant as a sophomore, strode through the doorway and used his far larger body to knock the small Nagato into the door, teaching her not to get in his way away.

As Kyon gets angry with the sudden attack, the deepest notes of the piano rang out and nearly deafened everyone in the room. Clarke had hammered the notes with full force at the sound of the disturbance, though his music being interrupted didn't seem to be the only thing that got him angry. Appearing from behind the Brigade, the mysterious Emiri Kimidori appears and rushes to the stage, where the two boys are staring each other down with hatred.

After trading insults, the Brigade learns that there is much tension and aggression between Sanjit Ahmed and Alistair Clarke. Clarke, growing bored of Ahmed's talk, throws the first punch and breaks Ahmed's nose, the latter landing a hard punch to Clarke's kidney. As Ahmed gloats to the wounded boy, he finds that Clarke is not trembling but laughing, seeming to enjoy the provocation. He stands and dissects the piano of strings, holding them between his fingers and waving them in the air. As the wave like tendrils, they ring a ghostly noise, but this was a clever distraction on Clarke's behalf. As he sets his trap, Koizumi commentates on the whole situation, explaining Clarke's plan as he carries it out. In a terrifyingly sinister move, Clarke uses the ringing strings and curls them around Ahmed's body, turning his strange new instrument into a deadly weapon.

Ahmed charges Clarke again, the latter taking the strings in his teeth and throwing his arms to the side, causing the strings to tighten and lightly cut into Ahmed's arms and also trap him in a razor-like net. Ahmed panics and tries to pull away from Clarke, cutting himself deeper and also harming Clarke, who tries to hold the strings tight, sacrificing the welfare of his hands as they cut him under the strain.

With a hard tug, Sanjit manages to overpower Clarke and pull him off the stage, loosening the strings and allowing him to escape. The two boys ignore the pleas of the girls and still seem ready to fight. In a final deciding move, Clarke flicks his wrists and encircles Ahmed's neck with two strings, forming a blade-like noose that will either cut his throat open or choke him to death. It seems that the Brit truly is ready to kill as he starts to tighten the noose, forcing Ahmed to beg on his knees.

Assuring that Giles will make sure he leaves the auditorium, Clarke lets the noose fall. In a strange gesture as Giles leads Ahmed out of the auditorium, Kimidori stands beside him and seems to shield him with her body in case Ahmed tried to break from Giles and attack Clarke after he showed mercy. When the two seniors leave, Clarke comments lightly on his injuries and walks over to Nagato. The alien girl seems to freeze in shock as one of the 'hostiles' approaches her and helps her to her feet, checking her wounds with concern and promising that Ahmed would not harm her again. When escorted out by Mikuru, Nagato seems adamant to take every second she has to simply look at Clarke.

As the two girls leave, the auditorium's population is reduced to Clarke, Kimidori, Koizumi and Kyon. Through surprisingly direct questioning, Koizumi discovers from Clarke that Ahmed has too much pride to contact the police over nearly being cut to pieces by a junior armed with piano wire, a devious mind and a merciless grin. Clarke also works out with slight irritation that Koizumi was the one following him after his first appearance in school. He dismisses the suggestion that he might be classed as a 'menace to society' and claims that he was doing justice by protecting Haruhi from the gang and sticking up for Nagato against Ahmed's bullying. Warning them to stay out of the feud and to not tell anyone of the incident that had just taken place, Clarke takes his leave.

Alone with Kyon and Kimidori, Koizumi asks the girl for the truth on how she knows the transfer students, Clarke in particular, so well. She replies that she was supposed to be helping them settle into their new school life and had been told of the brutalities of the prestigious Winchester Academy by Clarke. According to Kimidori, the students were not only taken in due to their mental capabilities, but were also pitted against each other in combat, accounting for the school's so called 'militaristic traditions.' She then continues to clean up the blood and sharp piano wires as if it were her duty. We come to a conclusion with a worried Koizumi leaving Kyon alone to think. Kyon comes to a conclusion; it has to be Haruhi.

_Author's Note_

Now that I look back, this chapter really was just one big fight scene, wasn't it? Well, there we are; the tension between Clarke and Ahmed has been broken, both of them showing their resolve and willingness to harm one another. But in the end, Clarke's devious mind and possibly even some form of violent insanity won him the battle with the piano wire. Bear in mind that if you hit this kind of wire at speed, it can and will slice through flesh, cartilage and bone with ease due to how thin it is, hence the panic that Koizumi expressed when he realised that Clarke's conducting was actually a deadly weapon in disguise. Well, that's all for now.

Yuki, whilst looking into the room that contained two of the three Winchester students, told Kyon that they were hostile, but the dangerous Alistair was quick to attack Ahmed when provoked. What could all this mean? And if this is Haruhi's doing, just what spurred her to create such dangerous, evil people?


	3. The Banner Flies

It's strange for me to think about this now, but now that I look back on life, I was a cruel being. But, by that logic, my death was well deserved. I recall that a holy preacher once said to man, "Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword." Live by the sword? I certainly did. But I didn't want to. I suppose you could say that I was a conscript with a blade forced into my hand and marched to war without the will to fight it. But I like to think that at least the sword the ended my life was one that I turned on myself, one of retribution, a little way of atonement for my sins.

* * *

><p>When Clarke entered the class the next day, he was greeted by a chorus of questions, all quickly silenced by an angry Okabe. Kyon could tell from the teacher's expression that he was starting to become suspicious of Clarke. Or just angry at him for exciting the class so much, one of the two. Kyon could clearly hear the squeak of a chair and the groan of a desk as Haruhi leaned over Kyon's shoulder.<p>

"This is it, Kyon, don't mess this up or they'll be a punishment worse than you can imagine." she whispered dangerously. Kyon was torn between two choices; who did he get angry? The guy who nearly beheaded his fellow student with an improvised weapon or the girl who was supposed to be able to destroy the universe and recreate it again if she didn't like something? Upon further inspection of the Brit who sunk into his disciplined stare, Kyon realised with a strange thump of his heart that his slashed and cut pale hands didn't have a mark on them.

_What the hell? Those strings cut right into his hands, how are they healed already?_ Kyon looked up and jumped a little when he found the entire class looking at him expectantly and Okabe looking irritated.

"Sir, if I might take this question?" Clarke spoke up, smiling a little. Okabe raised his eyebrows and looked as if he was about to scorn Clarke for interrupting what was obviously Kyon's question, but his eyes suddenly glazed and he sighed a little.

"Sure, Mr. Clarke, if that's what you want." he said as if suddenly very calm, smiling dumbly as the Brit stood. Clare answered the equation on the board that made no sense to Kyon and sat back down, catching Kyon's eye as Okabe went on and giving him a sly smile and a wink. Did he... Did he just save Kyon from Okabe? Suddenly, Kyon felt very exposed. Possibly due to the unnerving calmness of the psycho beside him, but also maybe because he could feel Haruhi's breath on his neck.

"Doesn't his accent sound awesome? I can practically see the aura of mystery around him! This guy's gonna be a valuable member of the brigade, Kyon, and he just saved you, so you better be nice to him!" Kyon wasn't so much concerned that he wouldn't be nice to Clarke but rather Clarke would try and slice him apart or wreck his brains with that look. Kyon started to get worried as lunch break neared; Clarke ate with the other Winchester kids, but after yesterday, would they start another fight in front of everybody? As the bell finally clanged, Kyon jumped as Haruhi's arm bolted out and caught Clarke's shoulder firmly, asserting her dominance before the rest of the class could drag the Brit to their lunch table.

"Hey, Clarke! You wanna come eat lunch with us today?" she asked hopefully, full of life. Kyon was expecting her to be brushed off with a quiet apology like the rest of the students, but to his amazement, Clarke turned and smiled.

"Oh, hello, Miss. Suzumiya. I'd love to join you." He stood and turned his chair, folding his leg across his lap and looking quietly proud of himself. "How's your health, Miss. Suzumiya? Have you had trouble sleeping?" Haruhi faltered slightly when Kyon looked at her, but she seemed inclined to answer.

"Oh, I'm fine, really! Um, thanks again for your help, by the way." Clarke chuckled and waved his hand dismissively,

"No need to thank me, Miss., I was simply doing what was right." He turned his head to Kyon, who still wasn't moving for his bag and seemed to be trying to put as much distance between himself and Clarke. "Something wrong?" Kyon said nothing and stared suspiciously at the almost excited smile. A burn stung his am as Haruhi nipped him, forcing him to jump and stop glaring. With an almost awkward look, Clarke turned from him and looked back to Haruhi, who instantly cut his sentence off,

"Hey, do you like aliens and stuff like that?" Clarke's partially open mouth slowly closed into an almost bemused smile,

"Curious how you should ask that, Miss. Suzumiya, as I was about to ask you if there were any vacancies in your famous SOS Brigade?"

_No. No. I refuse to believe that random chance has caused this. Either Tyche has cursed me very unfairly with bad luck beyond belief or Haruhi has really wished for his guy!_

Haruhi's eyes lit up like two suns in a dark sky.

"Of course there are!" She looked to Kyon as if this was a good thing, "You can join today! Now, when class ends, the Brigade meets in the clubroom in the old part of the school. Once we're there, I can intro-" Clarke cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly,

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to immediately report to the clubroom, Miss. Suzumiya. I have a... meeting with Ahmed and Miss. Giles and I can't miss it. But it won't take long, I just... need to watch them." he ended as if not quite knowing how to word his thoughts, giving a hopeful grin. Amazingly, that seemed to appease Haruhi.

"Okay, if you gotta do it, I guess its fine! But you gotta come straight to clubroom, 'kay?" Clarke nodded as the bell rang. The rest of the day was thoroughly uneventful, apart from what sounded like Haruhi scribbling down endless notes and plans inside the back of her books, probably organising another alien hunt to occupy their weekend.

_But Nagato said this whole crew were the bad guys! Haruhi, please, if you're ever going to listen to me, hear me now; get rid of this snowy-haired demon and his weird buddies before something goes wrong!_

* * *

><p>As the final bell rang, Clarke stood gracefully and bowed his head to Haruhi, disappearing out of the room with startling speed to accompany his proud stride. Haruhi predictably raced out of the room, probably to head Mikuru off and torment her a little before Kyon could stop her. Kyon was just stepping out of the door after her when a firm grip clasped his arm.<p>

"There mustn't be any following today." It was Koizumi, leading him after their leader, "Orders from high in the Agency. I let them know of what these people are capable of and they made it very clear that we, especially you and Miss. Suzumiya, are to keep as much distance between us and those students as we can." Kyon stopped suddenly and grimaced, wincing at the words.

"Yeah... That's gonna be a problem." He didn't have to say a word more as Koizumi's smile faltered and he looked a little too hot in the glow of autumn sun that floated through the windows of the hallway. The esper was silenced, seeming to be grasping at ideas and plans and, for once, failing and staying silent. This couldn't go well.

* * *

><p>Haruhi stumbled into the clubroom mid-sentence, babbling to Mikuru about the new boy who Mikuru had to wait on as she slammed her bag on the desk and started to rifle through it, unpacking the endless notes she had compiled. The time traveller, already admirably wearing her maid outfit, shrieked and nearly threw the teapot across the room with fright.<p>

"And he's pretty cute too! Oh, and you should see his eyes, they're gorgeous! Maybe you could get a gothic maid outfit and we can do a photo shoot with you and him-" She stopped as she looked up and realised that she was addressing a room with only one person. She had to blink and lean around Mikuru's outfit to get a better look at the seat by the window, but to her surprise, Nagato wasn't there.

"Hey Mikuru, where's Yuki?" Mikuru's face started to tinge pink and she glanced at the chair with worry.

"Um, I think Miss. Nagato went for a... walk?" If Haruhi wasn't so baffled at the fact that the omnipresent Nagato wasn't present, she may have been able to see through the terribly bad lie.

"Huh, weird. Anyway Mikuru, doll yourself up, you're new photo shoot partner will be here so you need to look even cuter, girl!" Mikuru began to nod before her face fell and she started to look a little worried.

"Wait... Wha-" Too late, Haruhi had already taken off out of the door, leaving to Mikuru to fret over her new 'photo shoot partner' and possible threat to her life simultaneously. As Haruhi walked, she started to ponder where the slightly younger girl could have possibly gone to. As she padded down the steps, she remembered the gusto that Yuki had when she actually trotted on ahead and seemed determined to reach the hall's doors. Maybe that's where she was? Sweeping her head up and down every corridor on her way, Haruhi made her way across the school and to the auditorium.

As she approached the doors, she could hear a far-off voice and what sounded like a piano; Perfect, that meant Alistair and his other friends would be there. At least that was something. As quietly as she could manage, Haruhi pushed the door open and slipped inside. She scanned the stage for the angelic singer and the huge violinist, but they were nowhere to be seen, but the piano still played softly with a voice accompanying it. Haruhi instantly caught the glow of Clarke's snowy hair and pale skin reflecting the bright stage lights, making him look like a fallen angel as his voice sang with effortless elegance. But there was another figure beside him. A girl, her slim legs and arms almost white as she sat beside the pianist, entranced as he sang. When Haruhi spotted the hair, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop herself from exclaiming at the adorable scene on the stage.

"...don't really care for music, do you?  
>It goes like this, the fourth the fifth,<br>The minor fall and the major lift!  
>The baffled king composing, Hallelujah!" Clarke's smile was full and genuine as he finished the verse, his fingers still gently gliding over the keys as he sang.<p>

"Baby, I've been here before,  
>I know this room, I've walked this floor,<br>I used to live alone before I knew you." He turned to the shorter Yuki Nagato with a smile as if to check if she were enjoying herself as she listened to him play.

"I've seen your flag on the marble arch,  
>Love is not a victory march,<br>It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!" Haruhi's eyes lit and she felt a tear prick her eye as Nagato swayed and gently lay her head on Clarke's arm as he played, who sang softly with a look of pride. For the rest of the song, Clarke played with the girl on his arm, smiling in his dreamy bliss. If only Haruhi could see her face! She would look so cute! Clarke's soothing voice crooned the last few words and the final note hummed within the depths of the instrument, Yuki still leaning against him. Haruhi crept up to the stage until she could lean against it, watching the bizarre couple sit in silence. After a few minutes silence, Clarke looked down to Yuki with a bemused smile and looked like he was about to laugh. He covered his mouth to hide his smile and turned and looked Haruhi in the eye, beckoning her over. Did he know that she was there from the start?

Haruhi silently climbed onto the stage a crept to the piano, Nagato still not moving an inch. With a slight jerk of his head, Clarke indicated to Yuki and for Haruhi to come closer. She walked around the piano until she could see the alien girl's face and noticed that her breathing hadn't changed for a while and she was staying almost totally still.

"Miss. Nagato?" Clarke asked tentatively, smiling down into the lavender hair. She didn't say a word, which was Haruhi realised that the stoic, silent Nagato was asleep. "Miss. Nagato," Clarke said again, a sly smile creeping onto his face, "Miss. Suzumiya is here." Like a dog hearing a whistle, Nagato's eyes burst open and she sat bolt upright, scanning her eyes quickly and stopping to look Haruhi in the eye. There, on Yuki's cheek... Was that the beginning of a blush? Clarke chuckled,

"Well, Miss. Suzumiya, my meeting hasn't gone quite to plan and my... compatriots haven't shown, but Miss. Nagato has been keeping me company. I guess there is no use for us to stay here? Shall we go on?" Clarke stood and Nagato with him, smiling at their leader expectantly.

"Okay, let's go! Now, you're going to need to know a little about who we've got. You already seem to know Yuki, she's our silent girl. Isn't she just adorable?"As she led the way, Haruhi talked on and on with the two utterly strange people in tow. She was at the peak of joy; not only had she earned a multi-purpose new member to fill the 'mysterious' side of her brigade's line-up, but there was some chemistry between him and Yuki! This was awesome!

* * *

><p>"Attention SOS Brigade member! This is your chief speaking!" Haruhi cried with her arm in the air, announcing herself to the startled room when she kicked the clubroom door open, "May I present to you the newest member of the SOS Brigade, Alistair Clarke!" There was no applause. Haruhi gave a little scowl and pulled Clarke into the room, dropping him into a seat beside Mikuru, across from Koizumi and Kyon. "Now, Itsuki there's the deputy chief, so he'll be in charge of you when I'm away. Say!" Not stopping her train of lightning-fast speech, she slammed her hands onto the desk and was breathing into Clarke's smile, "I know! You can be the club's PR! It'll be your job to go out with Mikuru and talk to the public! Maybe you could even be our on-the-scene investigator! But then you'd need a phone to get in contact with me. Oh, this is gonna be so much fun!" Haruhi bounced around the room some more before blurting about signing some paperwork for the student council and zooming out of the door.<p>

_Oh no. Haruhi, why? You brought him in and you left us alone, now I'm fearing for my life. Do you really not realise that there's something wrong with this guy? Damnit, Koizumi, do something!_

"Um, would you like some tea?" Mikuru had her face hidden behind the serving tray as she asked, Haruhi's orders of playing maid still in her mind. Clarke chuckled and didn't look up,

"Hm, Japanese tea... Can't say that this flavoured water can compare to the Queen's brew I had back home, so I'll have to turn you down," he looked up with his sinister smile, "Miss. Asahina." The girl jumped and turned away, Clarke reclining back and closing his eyes. Koizumi smile slipped into a stern stare a he leaned over the table,

"So where is it you come from, Mr. Clarke?" Clarke flashed his teeth as he grinned,

"Winchester, born and raised. I thought that you-"

"And you say that you were schooled at Winchester Academy?"

"That's right." Clarke cocked his head and looked Koizumi in the eye, "Why do you ask?" Koizumi's fist curled ever so slightly,

"Because I did a little research and Winchester Academy does not exist." The room went silent, but Clarke was looking amused. He looked so smug, head reclined and looking down his nose with his golden eyes, arms folded across his chest. He was challenging Koizumi, taunting him, daring him to continue. "You also have almost inhuman combat abilities, you do not react to pain, no matter how much is inflicted on you, you show no emotion other than this... this insane, taunting demeanour. Now, prove to me that you are a human, because to me, no human is capable of that. In fact, I think you, Mr Clarke, are an alien." Clarke said nothing, still smiling as Koizumi worked himself up and started to sound angry. Kyon looked around at the stress; Mikuru was in a corner, hiding behind the serving tray and trembling slightly, Nagato had stopped reading and was watching the scene intently and the ever calm, even headed and resourceful Koizumi, the esper who was no doubt the brains of the Brigade, was getting angry and defensive. It was Kyon's turn to speak up.

"Alright, stop playing games!" He stood from his chair and pointed right at Clarke, whose eyes widened in amusement, "Look, we've worked out that there's no way you're human. You're story doesn't add up and you didn't think twice about killing someone! There's just no way that any person would be capable of that, which narrows the results down that you're evil. Even Nagato has said that you're a hostile! You're an inhuman monster-!"

_The sudden blast of sound that then interrupted me was very confusing at the time, but allow me to slow the scene down for you; As I called Clarke an inhuman monster, Miss. Nagato suddenly rose from her seat, causing the chair to scrape extremely loudly. She moved forward with incredible speed directly for me. Now, for a fraction of a second, I thought that she was moving to protect me from Clarke, who was no doubt going to attack me after that comment. Sadly, this was instantly dismissed by Clarke himself._

"Hold!" Clarke suddenly bellowed, his voice far louder than it should have been. All other movement and noise stopped at his command, allowing Kyon to survey what had unfurled. He looked into Yuki's eyes and felt terror knock the wind from his lungs; Clarke was holding the small girl's arm, preventing her inclined body from moving closer to Kyon, but her eyes were not the constant emotionless neutral; they were very faintly scowling.

"Stand down." Clarke said calmly, his arm quivering slightly as Kyon backed away from Yuki, who pulled against his grasp. What the hell was going on? "Stand down, I said." Clarke repeated, sterner, louder than before, Nagato jolting in his grasp as he attempted to loosen his grip. "Nagato! Stand down! That's an order!" he yelled angrily at the girl in his grasp as the Brigade stared in shock. Nagato slowly loosened her stance and stood at Clarke's side, her brow relaxing and returning to her usual blank stare, her eyes low and even a little guilty. Clarke let go of her sleeve and sighed, calming himself after the outburst, "Calm yourself. I can handle this."

Mikuru had long since sat in the corner of the room and was cowering away from the constant sound and aggressive movements and Koizumi was bewildered, no help at all to Kyon, who had backed away from the table in shock. Nagato had moved to attack him. She had listened to what was being said and she made the effort to get up and try and hurt Kyon. She even looked angry. But Clarke had stopped her, controlled her just by holding her incredible strength back and telling her what to do. And did he call it an 'order?' Clarke turned from Yuki and started to slowly walk around the table to Kyon.

"Monster, am I? Why, because I hurt people? Did you ever stop to think, did a single cell in your brain ever fire and think, 'maybe he has a good reason for that?'" Clarke spoke calmly and without humour, his eye twitching with frustration as he slowly approached Kyon.

"Correct, I am not human. I, like Nagato, am a data interface. Care to take a snipe at that?" He smiled mockingly, looking like he was just holding back the urge to snap and start shouting. "So, I'm evil? Inhuman? You pathetic little creature, you know nothing of what I have seen. What I have done. I am not the evil one here, you and your whole disgusting, corruptible and inexcusable race is." Koizumi saw Clarke's hand shaking and start to curl. Whatever the cost, he could not allow any harm to come to Kyon; what Suzumiya would do was a terrifying thought. Koizumi took a deep breath and stood between the two boys, looking down at Clarke,

"So you admit to not being human? Very well. But that does not make you a humane creature. There is nothing that you can do to prove that you have any higher function than your aggression-" He stopped suddenly as Clarke grabbed his collar and dragged him down until they were eye to glaring eye.

"You think that, because I'm not human, I can't feel?" he screamed, the veins of his eyes starting to creep into view like jungle tendrils, "You think that, because I only smile, I can't feel sorrow? That I don't fear? You, human, may have done battle against the beings you call 'shinji' but you know nothing, NOTHING, of true terror!" He took a breath and pointed to Nagato, who still hadn't taken her eyes off of him. "Look at Nagato. She defended me a moment ago and I had to stop her. Know why? Because I didn't tell her to. Because her emotions told her to." Koizumi didn't retort, he only looked to Kyon with shock. This seemed to anger Clarke, "What, just because Nagato didn't make a song and dance of it, you never thought that she was sad? Or lonely?" The door swung open and no one moved from their positions. Koizumi and Clarke were still eye to eye and Kyon was still behind the esper, so only Mikuru noticed who it was.

"Please, sir, sit down. Miss. Suzumiya shall be returning soon." Emiri Kimidori asked quietly from the door. Just like Kyon and Koizumi had observed the first time the two had met, the girl looped her arm through Clarke's and gently pulled him away, guiding him to the chair across from Kyon and the esper. "Boys, please, take a seat. There should be no violence when in such close proximity to Miss. Suzumiya, lest she do something rash." Slowly, the room lowered themselves into their chairs and the tension grew. Clarke was sitting with his eyes closed and hands entwined, concentrating deeply as Emiri smiled absently beside him in polite silence. Nagato, too, had taken a seat beside Clarke, the two girls flanking him.

"Sir, permission?" Emiri asked, receiving a silent nod from Clarke. She looked to Kyon and Koizumi and began, "As you may have guessed, I too am not a human. We three are all servants," Clarke's nails splintered the wood and made the table grind as he slowly ran his fingers along the surface, giving his sideward glance to Emiri. The girl nodded apologetically, "As I was saying, we three are the... workforce of the Data Integration Thought Entity, though only a fraction. Miss. Nagato, as she has already told you, is here to observe Miss. Suzumiya and transmit any and all data signals that she gives off to the Entity in hopes of our superiors finding a way to force the self-evolution required for its survival. Mr. Clarke here is a little different. He is our foreman, our leader. He is the one who organises and controls all interfaces in the Sol star system. He is not only tasked with correctly deploying interfaces, he also watches over us and protects us from any harm that might come to us." She stopped for a moment, allowing Kyon to take in the information.

"Whoa, hold on here." Kyon pointed to Clarke, whose eyes were still closed, "When Nagato was watching him, she said that he was a hostile!" Emiri opened her mouth to reply, but Clarke beat her to it,

"Bear in mind, human, that I was not the only one in that room." he said quietly. He raised head and looked to Kyon with a strangely blank look, "You want proof that I can feel? See the world through my eyes." Kyon realised all too late what he was doing, for the bright amber had been focused on him without effect until now. Just as it had happened in the auditorium, time suddenly slowed and the colour from all around him drained and left him in a room of grey. The sound was incomprehensible, but what bothered Kyon more than anything was the fact that Clarke's colour remained, the only thing in Kyon's vision that stood out. Like water on wet paint, Clarke's blue blazer started to darken until it settled into the table and chair. The glowing white of Clarke's hair seemed to gather and drip from the tips of each strand, the only thing left that had not been corrupted by the melancholy grey being the two golden moons.

Kyon started to panic in the strange grey limbo as what felt like a drill started to hit the back of his mind, stinging at his brain, urging him to react. What was going on? What did Clarke want him to-

"Close your eyes." came the voice of the Brit from within Kyon's head. He didn't want to, but the pain intensified to a painful hammer that threatened to damage his brain. With the sinister glow of amber the last thing he saw, Kyon closed his eyes and felt his mind being grabbed and pulled from his body.

_I can't quite explain what happened next, it was so weird. It was like nothing existed, but I could think. I couldn't feel anything, I'm not even sure that I had a body, but at some point, I became aware of my hands. I could feel them moving, so I searched for my legs. Present. Then my stomach. Accounted for. Suddenly, I realised that I had eyes, so I opened them up to see the world. Whiteness, stretching on forever. The ground and sky was just blank as far as the eye could see, blending seamlessly. I didn't panic, for once, and just sat down and felt the floor. As I reached my arm out, I noticed that I was still wearing my uniform. As my fingers hit the floor, I tried to work out what it felt like, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't think; it wasn't hard or soft, nor was it rough or even smooth. Simply something to be on, to exist on._

_I jumped a little and turned when I heard a groan from behind me. Oh, Koizumi's here. Huh. The esper patted himself down like I had done and looked at me like a confused animal. Then Miss. Asahina popped up beside me, but I didn't have time to talk to either of them, because Clarke was now glaring at us._

"You are now in a portion of an original programme, created by myself, called the 'failsafe.' This is a high-tier level of data manipulation that has allowed me to take your mind from your body and do with it what I shall. The body that you now inhabit does not exist in the physical world; it is merely a vessel for your mind to latch onto whilst in the failsafe. It is here, in this empty space, that I can show you what I have seen." He snapped his fingers and what appeared to be a huge painting suddenly appeared behind him without introduction. It was a picture of a pair of hands placed on what looked like a piano, one hand blurred from the movement.

"The colour you see behind me is the memory file I have chosen for you to view. Once you make contact with the file, the persona you now inhabit will be destroyed and your conscience will transfer and combine with my memory. You will think what I think and feel what I feel, but you will also maintain independent thought simultaneously. Come, esper, time traveller and human, and see for yourself if I can feel beyond my smile." Like dumbfounded cattle, the three members of the SOS Brigade huddled together in the white silence and slowly made their way to Clarke, who stood before the memory-screen. Koizumi was the first to reach it, stretching out his fingers and brushing the first-person painting of a piano. One moment, Kyon could feel the warmth from Koizumi's jacket, the next, he could not. There was no noise and movement to explain what had happened. He was there, he touched the screen, he was gone.

"You shouldn't keep your friend waiting." Clarke reminded Kyon and Mikuru, giving them a neutral stare and a little shunt. Suddenly, Kyon felt happy. He realised the piano before him and felt his hands rush to the keys, tapping them to make the purest sound he could to match Rébecca's sweet voice. He could feel the eyes watching him from the doorway, but his singing was more important. Kyon felt his voice, no, Clarke's voice rise to meet Rébecca's. But even their entwined voices and the booming piano could not stop him hearing the words of his subordinate from the doorway mutter the word 'hostiles.' Strange. The emotional data was growing more erratic as it had been doing for six months. But Nagato never acted with emotion, she was always a blank card. Poor thing, she's confused, getting a little mixed up between orders and emotion. Kyon would have to sort that later, maybe remind her to keep her cool on the mission.

He tried to go back to concentrating on his singing, but could feel a sudden burst of data from the door. New priority, emergency-tier; Interface Yuki Nagato is being attacked. Kyon thought quickly of a way to keep his cool and save Nagato from further damage and thought of his music. Tweaking the data of the sound waves the emanated from the strings of the piano, Kyon slammed the lowest notes and tried not to react to the pain of his ear drums vibrating. Giles fled from the piano and Kyon could feel the life forms drop from the pain, but he mustn't let his own pain show; he couldn't look weak, he had to be strong. Summoning the best calm-angry face he could, Kyon turned into the dark and stared.

"Ahmed," he said, trying to sound angry "Can you tell me why Miss. Giles and I were interrupted so loudly a few moments ago?" Ahmed insulted him and squared up to him, trying to scare Kyon and make him back down. It was working. As Kyon looked up into his face, he was terrified; Ahmed was so strong, so vicious. If he was given permission, he could crush Kyon. But he was flawed, for he did not know the extent of Kyon's power. So Kyon just ran his threat programme and smiled like a psycho, thankfully feeling that Ahmed was losing a little of his confidence.

Ahmed hissed into his face and Kyon replied as best he could, secretly signalling for Kimidori to get to his position and to prepare to destroy Ahmed if Kyon was to fail. That was it, she was on her way. The only thing Kyon could do was strike first and strike fast. Kyon grabbed Ahmed's shirt, gave a leap into the air and hit him as hard as he could muster. This was it. He had started the fight, he had to finish it. Like an ant biting a hound. Suddenly, as Ahmed recoiled, everything stopped and Kyon found himself questioning what was going on, remembering that he still had his own thoughts. The hair that brushed the top of his vision, the feel of his tensed muscles, none of these things were his. And they were stretching, too. From the Indian's frozen face, all of reality was being sucked into, just like how a black hole pulls even light to its gravity.

Like pulling his head from a lake full of freezing water, Kyon took a deep breath as his body, his own body, was thrown backwards and he landed hard in the strange realm of white beside Koizumi and Mikuru. They lay on their backs and blinked heavily, flexing their muscles and getting used to the feeling of having their own body. Koizumi gasped as he was hauled to his feet and stared at neutrally by Clarke.

"No emotions, eh? Nothing behind that smile? You all just simultaneously experienced the events of yesterday for yourself. I hope it was informative." Koizumi looked confused and shook his head, looking all around,

"I don't understand. Does that mean Ahmed is an interface too?" Clarke slowly nodded. "Then, if you have the power to create a programme of this complexity, why not just attack and use all of this data against him?" Clarke cocked his head and looked a little confused,

"Did you listen to what we thought? Ahmed's power goes beyond my own, but he is on a tight leash. If I had attacked with data, his restrictions would have been released and he would have been able to attack in kind. As long as I kept the battle physical, I had a chance of winning. If I had killed him when I had the chance... We would be in a lot of trouble indeed." A voice echoed from far away, causing Clarke to look into the blank sky with disinterest. "It seems that our leader has returned. We should be getting back."

"I'm back!" Haruhi bellowed. Kyon jumped so hard that his head launched from the desk into the air and his knees slammed into the table. He was back in the clubroom. Haruhi started rambling about how surprised the council was upon her entrance, but Kyon couldn't concentration that; he was looking around in wonder as Mikuru and Koizumi did the same, looking as if they had awoken from a long sleep into a world that was not their own. The three shared a look as if to confirm what they had just seen was real. Kyon turned to Clarke, who was already occupied in speech with Haruhi with his usual energy-charged grin. Kimidori was gone and Nagato was back to reading as if nothing had happened.

But what had Clarke said? Ahmed was stronger? Could it be that his appearance here in North High was not caused by Haruhi? And if Ahmed was stronger, just what was he?

* * *

><p><em><span>Summary!<span>_

On the third day of Clarke's arrival, it seems that he thinks along the same frequency as Haruhi, as they both bring up the topic of the brigade, of which Clarke asks to join. Claiming that he has a meeting to get to with Ahmed and Giles, Clarke informs Haruhi that he will not immediately be able to go to the clubroom. As the day ends, Koizumi drags Kyon to the clubroom; he has received orders from his superiors to stay away from the lethal entity 'Alistair Clarke.' Sadly, Haruhi had already taken off to the clubroom, found Nagato absent and took off to search for her.

Finding the sound of music coming from the auditorium, Haruhi investigates to find Clarke singing 'Hallelujah' to Yuki, who sits next to him calmly and even rests her head on his shoulder. Clarke silently beckons Haruhi over and shows her that Yuki is asleep. It is only when Clarke mentions Haruhi's name does Yuki react, startled with a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

Haruhi leads the two back to the clubroom and leaves to add Clarke's name to the SOS Brigade's roster, leaving them alone with Clarke. Starting his questioning again, Koizumi points out the flaw in his alibi that the academy that Ahmed, Giles and Clarke supposedly came from does not exist. Clarke does not respond, keeping his cocky silence as the mood grows more hostile and tense. But it is when Kyon calls Clarke an 'evil, inhuman monster' that things get complicated fast.

Yuki Nagato, the girl who endured 200 years of the same fortnight, who gave Kyon the choice between her own paradise and her hell, attempts to harm Kyon. Clarke has to order her to stand down three times with increasing sternness for her to finally relax and stop trying to lunge for Kyon. After she has calmed down, Yuki steps aside to allow Clarke, who is clearly brewing with anger, to slowly approach Kyon.

Clarke, full of condescending fury, asks if Kyon had ever considered that Clarke's 'evil' acts were for a good cause. He proclaims that he is an interface like Nagato and dares Kyon to insult him more. He also claims that he is not the evil one, it is the human race that is evil. Koizumi, sensing that the vital Kyon could be hurt, steps between the two boys and points out that Clarke has done nothing thus far to prove that he is a being capable of anything other than anger and violence when Clarke goes on the offensive.

Clarke starts shouting about how he, despite smiling constantly, can too feel sorrow like a human and has known fear that the esper has not. He then, very casually, points out that he did not command Nagato to attack Kyon for insulting him, that she attacked out of her own emotions, further proving Clarke's point that he and Yuki are not so inhuman. Emiri Kimidori makes an entrance and calms the situation, sitting herself and the two aliens across from Kyon and Koizumi, Mikuru cowering in a corner and Haruhi still with the student council.

Asking first for permission from Clarke, Emiri explains that the three of them are all interfaces of the D.I.T.E. As she first called them 'servants,' Clarke reacted and accidentally gouged claw marks into the table, clearly not enjoying the term. Emiri apologises and alters her words accordingly. She claims that Clarke is the foreman of the entire Sol star system, and, as such, it is his duty to deploy and maintain the safety of all of the interfaces of the area.

Kyon notices a hole in the story and points out that, when Nagato watched Clarke and Rébecca, she called them hostiles. This point is put down after Clarke also points out that he was not the only one in the room, a foreboding omen. Tiring of the conversation, Clarke decides to do his explaining through action. Locking eyes with Kyon, the world drains of colour and time slows to a near stop, the only colour being Clarke's two staring eyes. A strange drilling pain in the back of Kyon's head and an order from Clarke from within Kyon's mind force him to close his eyes.

As Kyon closes his eyes, his mind is pulled from his body and his conscience is taken by Clarke's strange programme. In a staging area that Clarke names the 'failsafe,' a non-physical body is created for Kyon's mind to occupy, a 'persona.' Now able to walk and talk within the programme's failsafe, Koizumi and Mikuru appear, also a result of Clarke's stare. Clarke explains where they are and materialises what looks like a large painting behind him, but it appears to be from a first-person perspective of piano keys. Explaining that they will enter the memory and experience all of Clarke's emotions and senses, Clarke also mentions they will maintain independent thought.

Introducing them to the strange experience of another's memory, Clarke allows them to destroy their personas, via contact with the memory, and shows their minds into a sort of shotgun seat of Clarke's head. They see, hear and think exactly as Clarke had on that day, almost as if it were their own actions. Once in the memory, Kyon realises that he is experiencing the day past as Clarke sing with Rébecca. Clarke was always aware that he was being watched and makes a mental note that Yuki's emotions have been becoming more and more prominent in the last six months, the space of time that she has been with the SOS Brigade. He seems to want to discuss the matter with her rather than delete her emotions outright.

He instantly knows when Nagato is attacks and feels worried, using a little bit of data alteration to make the sound waves from the piano far louder, almost blowing his own eardrums as a show that he is not afraid of the approaching Ahmed. But Kyon starts to realise how outmatched he is and feels terrified when Ahmed steps up to him, but forces his smile to stay. In doing this, he masks his weakness and unnerves Ahmed. The memory stops as Clarke head butts Ahmed, the three members of the SOS Brigade being ejected from the memory and back into the failsafe.

Koizumi asks why Clarke did not attack Ahmed with full force, reasoning that he should win if he is so powerful that he can remove someone from their own body and actually force them into his memories. Worryingly, Clarke reminds Koizumi of his acceptance that Ahmed is stronger, but thankfully is on a leash from his superiors and overestimates the extent of Clarke's power. He also counters Koizumi that, if he were to use data as an attack, Ahmed's restrictions would be released and he would respond in kind, so as long as Clarke used earthly means to disable Ahmed, there would be no problem. He also cryptically comments that he would 'be in a lot of trouble' if he had actually killed Ahmed.

As Haruhi enters, Clarke releases them from the failsafe, allowing their minds to return to their respective bodies and awakening them, as it appeared that their physical bodies had fallen asleep whilst their minds wandered. Emiri has already gone and Nagato is back to reading and Clarke continues as if nothing has happened.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

I've decided to split this chapter into two so it's not such a drag to read. So, class, what have we learned today? It seems that the sinister, hyper-lethal weirdo Alistair Clarke is indeed powerful. He is also a child of the DITE, but resents being called its 'servant.' Clarke, much unlike Kimidori and especially Yuki, fully experiences emotions and is extremely proud of that fact, quick to defend and prove that he is not a mundane interface but a person unto his own.

We have also learned that through his hypnotic gaze, he can show people what he has experienced. But even with all of this power, he knows that he cannot defeat Sanjit Ahmed, another mysterious interface. But this is where Clarke's strange appearance comes into play. So far, he has had only a few expressions; his 'normal,' energy-filled smile that teeters on menacing, his fully insane smile to disguise his fear and shake Ahmed's confidence as they fought, and finally his blank, disciplined face that he wears for class.

So, dear reader, I leave you with another challenge, albeit an easier one than the last; We now know that Clarke is strong enough to manage an entire system of stars, but he also is weaker than Ahmed to the point of fearing him. He uses his unsettling smile to dishearten the enemy and create a feeling of immense tension and fear amongst those who he is not fighting.

The power to affect someone's heart is a formidable weapon, so the challenge is this; Just what happened to the mighty foreman to force him to wield this weapon with such confidence and startling readiness?

* * *

><p><span>P.S.<span> I would like to clarify the time period of the events that include Alistair Clarke for you. If I'm going to make this OC part of the canon story, I might as well go this far:

In the anime series, in chronological order, the Day of Sagittarius III is episode 27/28. It takes place sometime in autumn.

Someday in the Rain is episode 28/28 and takes place in late November.

The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya spans from December 16th to the 24th.

This leaves very convenient gaps of time between episodes 27 and 28, the autumn-winter weeks, and 28 and the movie, giving a solid couple of weeks between the ending of the anime and the beginning of the movie. So, in chronological order, here is Alistair Clarke;

The Day of Sagittarius  
>The Boy Who Played<br>Someday in the Rain  
>The Boy Who Waited<br>The Disappearance f Haruhi Suzumiya

Until next time!


	4. The Beautiful War

_Early Author's Note_

__Sorry this took so long, but them GCSEs are kinda important :P But never fear, I have a treat! A gruellingly long chapter followed directly by another! Happy days!

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><p>One thing that impresses me to this moment is how quickly the human being can adapt to a situation and take on new information. I suppose that is quite a generous thing to say, as the humans I associated with were rather... unique, used to the situations that I put them in. But it's strange; my words on that day in late autumn were of an almost taboo concept, yet the humans sympathised. Strange creatures.<p>

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><p>Kimidori stepped out of the elevator quietly in the early morning hours, padding down the hall like a ghost as she neared room 710. She stopped outside and knocked gently, but realised that the person she sought was not in there, for not a single signal was detectable within that space. Feeling a little ruffled, Kimidori backtracked a few doors until she found the seldom opened door of room 708. She let herself in; the girl inside wouldn't mind. She closed it gently behind her and entered the silent, stylish, bare apartment, looking around for her target. There she was, emerging from her room, already clothed in the North High attire.<p>

"Miss. Nagato, have you seen the foreman this morning? I don't think he's in his room." Nagato seemed to blink a little more as Emiri addressed her, shuffling uncomfortably in her school uniform. She glanced over to the large French doors, currently covered by thick curtains, pointing her slim hand. It wasn't that Kimidori thought Nagato was lying, but there was something odd about that space, for there was something very wrong about that balcony that hid behind the curtain and glass. It told her to stay away, it was too empty, too suspicious, too ominous. It was a space where no being should ever travel for it would devour them, crush them to nothing. But Kimidori had to go, she had to talk to the foreman. Steeling herself for the danger that lay ahead, Emiri swept the curtain aside, slid the door open and stepped into the forbidden space. The air was cool and the sun was creeping over the horizon, a scene most peaceful, if it weren't for the feeling of impending danger that shot through Kimidori.

"Oh, good morning, Emiri." greeted a bored voice. Clarke lounged in a reclining chair, looking very calm and at ease as the first beams of sunlight started to appear over the small city. Emiri curtseyed,

"Good morning, sir. Are you feeling well? You seem a little... off." she asked hesitantly, regretting her bold statement as it left her mouth, but the foreman didn't seem to be paying much attention.

"You're right, as usual. Emiri, do you regret anything?" He turned to look her dead in the eye, a strange expression on his face. Was it... sadness? What could have brought the foreman to this?

"Regret, sir? No, I don't believe I do. I always follow my orders, so there's no room for me to regret. Why, sir?" She watched him as he nodded slowly and hugged his knees into his chest, watching the sun stain the early morning clouds orange. This great ancient being, so powerful and so knowledgeable, looked so weak and fragile. He looked human.

"So you follow orders and therefore you can regret nothing? That sounds like a creed that I'd break in a moment. Well, I guess I already have... Emiri, promise me something; never do anything that will cause you regret, understand?" Emiri couldn't quite calculate what was going on; the data signals of the foreman were strange, erratic, peaking and lowering repeatedly. He stood and rushed to her, seizing her arms and lowering his glistening eyes to hers. "Promise me, Emiri!"

"Sir, what's wrong? You're..." Clarke shook her a little, not caring to brush away the tear that gathered in his eye, "Um, yes sir, if that is what you wish. But sir, what makes you sad?" Clarke let his arms fall as he sighed, brushing the tear away and turning to the city and rising sun as the breeze stirred his hair.

"I'm a stupid old man, Emiri. I'm arrogant, over-confident and I've made such terrible mistakes. But I suppose that's what I deserve for all my scheming. Just... Keep that promise, okay? Every time you think about making a risky move, think of this," He turned to her slightly and presented his body and sad, glazed eyes, "And don't dare to take it." Emiri nodded in shock as Clarke brushed his tears and stormed back inside, trying his best to hold his head high as Emiri stood alone.

In all the confusion, she had forgotten what she wanted to ask in the first place, her concern for her overseer consuming her thoughts. Alistair Clarke was of the strongest breed, the strongest interface in hundreds of star systems, a soldier to be feared and a leader to serve. In the three years Emiri had known him, Clarke had smiled and smiled, any threat that had ever approached her cowering away before him. But he was not perfect; the Entity had informed her in secret upon creation that Clarke had once directly defied the Entity and went rogue for a short period of time with unrestricted reign of his power. Since her first breath, Emiri had the constant warning to not trust Clarke, but she found it so hard to understand why she could not trust the very same person who was responsible for her protection. If Clarke was once again under the service of the Entity, why was it so... scared of him?

"Emiri!" Clarke suddenly called from the apartment, "I've made you and Yuki a new wardrobe, come and get changed whilst I go and check in." Emiri rushed inside to find a large collection of girl clothes scattered over Nagato's floor for them, the lavender haired girl already examining them with a look of intrigue. Not questioning her overseer's authority, Kimidori got to choosing clothes and dressing herself.

Clarke returned after a few minutes, but seemed even more ruffled than before. He didn't look to either of them and strode quickly past, slamming the glass door behind him and throwing himself into his chair. From within the house, Emiri felt the very air in the foreman's wake feel sharp and aggressive, meaning that the foreman was angry. And if the foreman was angry, the heavens were sure to fall. She crept out onto the balcony and found Clarke scowling at the sun, rapping his fingers against the plastic chair arm furiously.

"Sir, you seem agitated?" she asked softly, Clarke stopping his tapping and scraping deep groves into the plastic with his nails as the fire in his eyes burned brighter than the sunlight they reflected.

"Agitated? Me? No." he replied softly, trying to mask his anger with a hauntingly soft one. His efforts to keep calm failed and he crushed the clawed plastic chair arm to dust in his grip, releasing its pathetic form as he took a deep breath. Emiri shook slightly as the ancient being before her made the data around him tremble as his lip curled, but she stood her ground as best she could, "I'm absolutely livid. I've received orders; we're going out in full view." Despite his words and posture, Clarke's eyes swirled with the rage of an inferno as he looked into Emiri's core. "Do you realise what that means? It means that I'm going to have to put lives on the line. It means that this might be the last time you see Yuki in one piece." Clarke shook his head and stood, leaning on the balcony railing and looking over the awakening city as the early risers started their cars.

"Sir, if I may? I believe that you're embellishing that statement a little?" Emiri expected to be scorned by her superior, but Clarke just turned to her with an inquisitive look. "I only know you a little, sir, but that's enough to know you won't let that happen." she said confidently, causing Clarke to suddenly chuckle, his blank face cracking into a happy grin.

"Oh, Emiri, you certainly know what makes me tick. You're right, my dear, as usual. I'll tear this miserable planet in two and extinguish the Entity from this universe myself before any one of you is harmed." He smiled on, but his mood was quickly devolving back into his loathing, and it spread to Kimidori; the fleeting feeling of joy when her master laughed had dissipated into the foreboding void again.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Emiri suddenly cried in horror; Clarke seemed to be fading from her senses. The signals that formed his being were disappearing, as if he no longer existed, yet he still stood. His face fell back into a scowling stare as his mark on the universe disappeared from Emiri's senses. The girl stood in horror as the rest of existence around her made itself known to her through whatever signals it commanded, but her protector was just... gone, invisible, unnoticeable. But he was still there, watching the sun crest the high-rise apartments across town. Clarke closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, savouring the air,

"I wish you could feel this, Emiri. This bliss like nothing you've felt before." Emiri waited with a feeling akin to horror as her one safety in the universe separated himself from reality, his physical being starting to waver and shimmer as if the air was distorting him. Kimidori's heart hit her ribs hard as the wind picked up, the edges of Clarke's form blurring like sand shifting across a dune.

"Sir... That's dangerous! Please, realign yourself! What if you were to destabilize from your form? What if the Entity were to delete-"

"If this feeling of freedom costs my defection and deletion from the Entity, Emiri, then let it destroy me now." he suddenly interrupted, looking determined as his body suddenly solidified again.

"Sir... Please..." Emiri clawed at reasons, wracking her brains desperately; several times in the past had the foreman done this, each time cutting off all data signals and destroying himself a little, as if he were proving a point to someone other than her. "The Thought Entity needs you here!" Though his physical form remained and even chortled a little, Clarke's data signals were still non-existent.

"You think it gives a damn about me? It could replace me in a moment, but I have a trump card up my sleeve." Clarke pushed himself away from the railing and walked to Emiri, smiling and taking her into his arms, holding her close as the sun crawled higher and his body solidified. Kimidori was used to her foreman's random acts of affection, but this was far different; she couldn't feel his presence. Her touch nor smell receptors could pick up a single trace of the boy who was millimetres from her, yet she didn't move, for his anger had visibly cleared.

"Life is a game, Emiri, and a high-stake one at that. I've had dead hand after dead hand, but I still have an ace in the hole. One final trick to pull if I'm to be called." Emiri looked up to his smiling face, lit with an orange glow, analysing the grisly smile that he bore,

"Sir? You sound like you're planning something risky?" Clarke laughed, his chest rumbling but Emiri feeling nothing, as if she were numb,

"Oh, it's not risky, Emiri. Merely a venomous farewell that the Entity is well aware of. That's why my separating from this universe poses no threat to me. It's why, Emiri, I won't be scorned for doing this." Clarke let go of her and she was relieved to feel the streams of data that distinguished her master from the universe return, dancing around him and coursing through his veins, the data solidifying his place in this reality. Too much, more than his usual passive state emanated. Clarke heaved a large sigh and held his arms wide, embracing the sky and sun.

"Entertain me." he breathed to the air, Kimidori gasping as matter burst into form in the reaches of space. How was he doing that? Kimidori was never allowed to manipulate data! Nagato had only used it in emergencies, but that was with express permission from the foreman himself. What was the foreman talking about? What 'ace in the hole' could possibly allow him to send... over five hundred meteors on a course into Earth's atmosphere and allow him to get away with it?

Clarke laughed with joy as an array of tiny twinkles flared into life, denying and overriding the brightness of the dawn sun as they slowly grew. Holding his arms wide, he began to spin, laughing like he had when he danced on the stage and began his terrifying execution.

"Sir?" Kimidori asked, worrying as the meteors tore through the vastness of space and hurtled directly for the apartment complex, "Sir, the meteors! Sir!" Clarke laughed on, twirling on as the flaming rock grew brighter in the sky. Had he left part of his mind when he re-synced with the universe? He was going to destroy all of Japan with-

"Now dance!" Clarke suddenly bellowed, facing the town and throwing his arms into the air as the meteors glowed ever brighter. With the words of the foreman, the projectiles stopped dead, countless lights hanging and sparkling in the sky like a firework that refused to fade. As they hung, Clarke smirked to the shocked Emiri and offered his hand. Still keeping an eye on the threat to her life that hung in the sky, Emiri placed her hand in the foreman's and on his shoulder. They gently began to waltz with perfection, the flaming rock in the sky starting to swirl. As they danced on the balcony, bathed in blood-red light, the lights in the sky began to dance with them, diving and streaking, swooping to their steps and painting the sky with streaks of light.

As their dance ended with Kimidori's final twirl, the matter of the meteors began to weaken. As the girl finally came to stop and bowed to her partner, she looked into the sky and found that it was calm. Kimidori was about to ask what the foreman was thinking with such an audacious display, but he had already retreated inside. From a smile that betrayed nothing, to sadness, to loathing, to happiness, to the smile again. Just what was happening to that boy?

"Oh, girls?" Clarke's voice floated from the kitchen and Kimidori stepped into the house to hear his orders, "I'll need you two to leave the apartment for a few minutes sometime in the next couple of hours." There was a tinkle of metal on porcelain and Clarke wandered back into the living room as Nagato hugged her new clothes around her, looking somewhat pleased with them.

"Who are you meeting, sir? Are we getting reinforcements to deal with the Dominion's presence?" Clarke gently squeezed the steaming mug of tea in his hands, looking thoughtful,

"A proposition from an old friend. Or new, depending on how far along the time dimensional plane she is, I lost count. Either way, I've been told that she has something to tell me regarding the future and..." Clarke started to giggle like a child, twirling his mug around and looking Emiri dead in the eye with a little grin, "I'm going to get the option to break time!" Kimidori got the idea of where he was going with that little smile, but Nagato hadn't seen the meteors or heard the speech.

"But isn't that forbidden, sir? I didn't realise that you had permission to actively affect the flow of time?" Nagato asked, the three jackets that she had been mulling over now forgotten. Clarke chuckled again and turned his eyes to her. He flourished his wrist grandly and quickly manifested the data around his hand. At arm's length, he held between his fingers the ace of spades, giving Kimidori a wink.

"A hunch tells me I'll be allowed." With a little flick of his wrist, Clarke sent the ace of spades sailing through the air, the card swooping like a bird and fluttering down gently to land on Nagato's wooden table. "And girls, I can't remember the amount of times I've asked you to call me Alistair." Clarke cocked his head back, drained his tea and turned back to the kitchen, "Oh, and Yuki? The white denim one looks the cutest on you." Kimidori turned with surprise to her cohort, whose pale skin was staining pink. Nagato was acting odd too. Was this some form of virus being passed around the house?

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><p><em>Day four of the occupation of the semi-ally, semi-enemy, fully-psycho alien in my proximity. I am on constant alert and on the lookout for anything strange. It's Saturday and as I get dressed, I'm dreading the day ahead. This has to be the most foreboding Saturday since Nagato got stuck in that 200 year loop, as today is the day Haruhi was most excited about. After we had come out of our trip into Clarke's head yesterday evening, Koizumi, Miss. Asahina and I were excluded from all conversation. All Haruhi wanted to do was listen to Clarke's whispering as he clicked away on the computer, Haruhi's face getting more and more excited with every click. I was told to keep today free and bring money, so who knows what that damn alien was showing her.<em>

Kyon's phone bleeped loudly as the sun filtered through his curtains, calling to him and heralding the nightmare that was inevitably waiting for him. He forced his head through a shirt and stumbled over to his dresser, accidentally kicking it. The pain shot through him and he bit his lip hard, his eyes stinging as he hobbled over to the phone.

"Hell-"

"Do you realise what time it is?" Kyon's arm launched out to his side as he gasped, Haruhi's voice punishing his eardrums and making his head hurt, "It's twenty five past eleven! You were supposed to be here nearly half an hour ago! Get your ass down here NOW!" The dial tone rang, bringing the god's voice to an end, leaving Kyon with his ears ringing and far more grumpy than he was a moment ago. So not only was he going to have to meet that freak Clarke again, but also have to fork out even more cash for everyone's lunch. His wallet was already hurting.

Ten minutes later, Kyon's t-shirt was starting to stick to his back as his lungs burned. Cars trundled past him in the tight intersections that surrounded the train station, horns blaring as Kyon's bike hurtled around the corner. The sun wasn't too high, even for midday, making his group of friends look like a dramatic picture in a newspaper in the semi-dawn light. They stood in the usual meeting spot; the courtyard outside of the station, dotted with a pair of trees, a few streets light and sat right in the centre of the intersection like a stubborn turtle in the centre of a road. Kyon's tires squealed on the hot tarmac and he hurriedly chained his bike to a post, trying to be as quick as he could to avoid as much punishment as possible. Haruhi was obvious by the foot tapping on the floor in frustration as she fumed to Koizumi, who loomed over them all and cast a large shadow. The most curious one of all of them, however, was Mikuru, who seemed to be slowly shuffling towards Nagato and Clarke, who stood a little way off.

"There you are!" Haruhi yelled, grabbing Kyon by the collar when he was close enough , "We waited for almost an hour for you and now we're starving!" Kyon failed to pull away, so just checked his watch and raised an eyebrow,

"You mean you've been waiting for a little over half an hour?" He was half expecting Haruhi to just brush off this fact, but instead she just shook her head and pointed to the two aliens,

"They've been waiting here since eight this morning! You should take a tip from them!" Kyon followed her finger and looked to the two aliens, Clarke giving another airy salute with a smile that reeked of mischief. "Anyway, there's no point of starting any patrolling now, so Kyon might as well treat us to lunch, seeing as he was the last one here." Without listening to Kyon's objections, Haruhi led the group at a march to their cafe beside the station. Kyon allowed most of the group to pass him by, hoping to catch a word with Nagato, but he forgot was he was going to ask as he caught sight of her clothes.

"Um, Nagato? Where did you get those from?" Kyon asked slowly, eyeing the slim navy blue jeans and short jacket that the fifteen/ two hundred and something years old girl looked like she was born to wear. The girl turned to him as they shuffled their way into the busy cafe,

"They were bought for me." Kyon didn't have long to mull on this due to Haruhi nearly ripping his ear off.

"What're you doing? You're blocking people from getting to the door, get in here!" This attracted a lot of curious looks from the patrons in the cafe as Kyon stumbled along, wincing in Haruhi's wake. She threw him into the booth besides Mikuru and Koizumi as she sidled up beside Clarke and Nagato. "Hey, Yuki, who did you say bought you those clothes?" she asked, testing the texture of the clearly expensive white denim jacket. Kyon watched very closely and, as Nagato bowed her head slightly, her lips curled up into a small smile.

"Alistair did." All eyes turned to the Brit, whose grin bared his pearly teeth as he pulled Nagato into a one-armed squeeze,

"Aw, Yuki, it warms my heart when you're happy." He continued to grin as he retracted his arm, eyebrows raising all over the table. Was he being serious? Did he just show something other than the want for violence? "Anyway, Kyon, I guess I should let you know what's going on." Clarke looked to Haruhi who gave an excited nod of confirmation. Clarke nodded back and leaned over the table, looking deeply into Kyon's eyes. "How's your footwork?" Kyon leaned further back in his chair, eager to put some distance between them in case he found the world turning grey again.

"What does that mean? You're gonna have to be more specific than that." Clarke leaned back and laughed, producing a leaflet from his pocket and handing it to Kyon.

"To thank you all for welcoming me into the Brigade, I have taken the liberty of purchasing us all tickets. Now all we have to do is get our suits, dresses and masks." Kyon heart started to fall like a brick in the sea;

'Mr. Komui's Masquerade Festival Tonight! ¥65, 000 Prize for Best Couple Dancers!' was announced in elegantly curved letters, the picture a brightly lit hall with a couple in huge sequined masks. Koizumi laughed a little at Kyon's slowly dropping jaw as Clarke cleared his throat and reached again into his pocket, "Now I've got a little spending money for you all to get what you like. Girls, these are for you." Clarke produced a wallet and took a stack of three credit cards, fanning them out and holding them towards Nagato, Mikuru and Haruhi. The latter took one without hesitation, but Mikuru hesitated,

"Um, is it really okay for us to be taking all this money?" Clarke rolled his eyes as if she were to know better,

"My father wants me to make friends as quickly as possible, so when I asked for a little extra cash to take us all out for the night, he was only too happy to help."

_Liar, you know that she knows that you're an alien! Plus, Haruhi already took the money, you don't need to explain. This guy's gonna need to learn the ways of the Brigade a little faster unless he ends up like me. Actually... Hey, Clarke, if it's not too much to ask, try and arrive a little later next time, okay?_

"So, Miss. Suzumiya, how about you take Mikuru and Yuki and go and search for a dress suitable for a formal dance. Try and aim away from a kimono, something more comfortable. The PIN numbers are on the backs of the cards, by the way." Haruhi glanced at her card and stood,

"Alright, we're gonna go shopping now. Make sure you guys are there tonight! I won't accept any excuses, if you miss it you'll be punished." Kyon noticed that the glare was aimed at him exclusively as Haruhi seized Mikuru's wrist and dragged her from the shop at a run, leaving the three boys alone. Clarke rubbed his eyes, as if he were tired,

"You two don't need to worry about your tuxedoes, I've already picked them out and purchased them for you." Koizumi raised his eyebrow,

"You did that for us? With the money from your 'father,' I take it? How are we going to be able to change into these suits, then, if they're still in your possession? " Clarke ignored the slightly hostile tone in the esper's voice and just smiled at him as if he had pointed out something very obvious,

"Itsuki, whatever do you mean? You've been wearing them this entire time..." Kyon glanced down and yapped like a startled dog when he found that the clothes he put on this morning had been replaced with a tuxedo that fit him perfectly. "Once you arrive at the party, you'll get your masks. Whatever you two humans do, do not mess this evening up, understand?" He wasn't serious as such, more of a parent warning its child, "Suzumiya is close to fully accepting me as a normal human. If you two do anything to make her think otherwise or act like idiots, I'll be forced to remove you." He finished his serious note with a smile, stepping out of the booth and strolling out of the door, leaving the remaining Brigade to sit alone in the cafe, feeling stupid for being so well dressed in public.

"We... We better get out of here." Koizumi stuttered, craning his neck to make sure no one had seen them, "To think, I thought Miss. Suzumiya was just going to take us on another patrol of the streets, and now we're invited to a masquerade party." As they kept their heads in an embarrassed bow and strode quickly for the door, Koizumi cracked a small, careful smile, "Actually, that's more odd than I make it sound. What if Clarke isn't so bad after all? Sure, he said it in a way that made him seem a little scary, but he actually told us to let him become friends with Miss. Suzumiya." They walked quickly out of sight of the bustling intersection, Kyon's burning face distracting him from unlocking his chained bike.

"I think you're nuts. Didn't you see what he nearly did to that Ahmed guy back in the hall?" Koizumi's brow furrowed and he shook his head slowly,

"But he was defending Miss. Nagato at great personal risk. He even showed us how scared he was of that fight, yet he still jumped to it. And before that, too, he said that Nagato acted out of emotion when she tried to attack you, yet he held her back. He _defended_ you." As Kyon finally undid the lock and started to push his bike away, Koizumi sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Who knows, maybe he's not as bad as we think? After all, Miss. Nagato did get rid of Miss. Asakura, Clarke just had to plan and adapt his battle a little more carefully." Kyon wriggled in his suit a little, trying to free his shoulders from the grip of the suit. Not watching where he was going, he stumbled over a bump in the concrete pavement and stumbled pathetically, cursing all the way down.

"To be honest, if I'm supposed to be liking him after that little speech, I'm still inclined to hate him for putting me in this freaking suit. Hey, Koizumi," A worrying thought occurred to him as he turned to the esper, fear dawning on his face. "This is a masquerade party, isn't it? With masks?" The esper nodded slowly, "And Clarke said something about dancing... in couples... in suits..." Koizumi caught onto what Kyon was getting at and started laughing; after all, it wasn't his fault if Kyon couldn't dance.

_And just like that, my one hope just brushed me off, walking away in his tux as if nothing had happened, leaving me gawking at my doorstep. Perfect, look like I'll just not go. Who cares if Haruhi gets mad, she won't even notice that I'm there... Hey, that's it! Clarke said that he'd bring the mask to the party, no one would be able to tell that I'm there at all! I'll just tell Haruhi I was there all night and she'll never-_

"Good afternoon, Kyon." Kyon yelped and leaped into the air, his leg getting trapped beneath his bike and tackling him into the shrubbery as he came back to earth. He thrashed in the bushes like a cat in a pillow before taking a moment to realise just how soft and heavenly that voice was. It could be only one.

"M- Miss. Asahina?" he groaned, a twig poking into his cheek and slurring his speech. A small giggle came from above like angel heralding him to the gates of Heaven. A hand gently tugged his shoulder and he tore himself from the brush with ease at the rush of adrenaline from the contact of the fiery haired beauty. As Kyon fully emerged and picked himself off of the ground, he noticed the crimson high-heels and white skirt that hugged the slim waist. As he rose, he noticed the star-shaped mole on the well-endowed chest of the time traveller, a sure sign that this truly was the future version of Mikuru Asahina.

"In the flesh, Kyon. It's nice to see you again. You're looking well dressed." She stroked his lapel and his heart fluttered, but he couldn't think of that now.

"Miss. Asahina, why are you here? Has Haruhi messed up time again?" She giggled again and shook her head, checking her sparkling wrist watch before gazing into the sky.

"No, I'm just here to protect you from dying and shatter the course of history completely." The smile didn't quite fit that statement. This was made apparent when Kyon started to splutter, "Oh, sorry, that's a little dramatic. I'm here to stop you from getting hurt. No, that doesn't sound right either... Alright then, how about this; I'm here for you to take to the dance tonight?" That stopped Kyon in his tracks.

"You... You're here for what?" The future Mikuru bit her lip and considered his question a little before shrugging,

"Well, the way time is going at the moment, a fight is going to break out tonight. You'll be protected as best as is possible, but you will be seriously injured, but none of that matters now; with me here, you'll be even more protected." She beamed her promising smile again, but Kyon saw a loop-hole in his saviour's logic.

"But... won't the Asahina from this time be at the party too? Won't something go wrong?" He felt a little stupid at asking the question; of course she'd have a good answer, even if she was looking a little sheepish.

"Um, actually, I wanted to ask you about that. Could I get changed in your house? Only it's a little cold out here." Kyon opened his mouth, which got stuck open when he realised that the present-day Mikuru was slumped, fast asleep, just inside of his porch, still clutching a bulging bag from her shopping trip.

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><p>"Well, what do you think?" Thankfully, Kyon's parents had to work that Saturday and his grandparents were taking care of his sister, meaning that the house was empty. Kyon had been waiting for 10 minutes with an increasing feeling of guilt and dread as he stood outside the bathroom door, waiting for the future Mikuru to finished getting changed into the dress her younger self had bought. Kyon had carried the younger version to his room and lay her on his bed, she hadn't stirred once. As the bathroom door opened, Kyon's jaw dropped once more as Mikuru stood in the door smiling at him. "I think the chest is a little small for me, though." She looked down, pouting at her large chest that was being constricted by a dress that was made for a girl many years younger.<p>

"Noyoulookgreat!" Kyon suddenly yelled, resisting the urge to check if his nose was bleeding. Mikuru looked a little taken aback, but flattered nonetheless.

"Aw, thanks. Well, it's not quite time for us to leave yet. In fact, we have about seven hours to ourselves. Actually, I know what I could do." Suddenly, a mischievous smile bloomed on her face. Before Kyon, an angel with flaming hair and boobs like a pair of pigs wrapped in white cloth advanced on him, hand outstretched. All of his dreams were coming true-

"Just have a sleep." Oh. Kyon didn't have time to comprehend the pain and disappointment that went through his soul as his brain faltered under the touch of the time traveller and he dropped to the floor, the house clock chiming noon.

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><p><em><span>5 pm, on the outskirts of town<span>_

The assimilator was uneasy, and the constant pacing of the knight beside her wasn't helping. Could this be the night? Could this night be the deciding strike was made? Her knight and his escort would have to stay close, for opposition was sure to present itself, but if the assimilator could complete her mission quickly, not a single person would have to be harmed. She could take control of the powers of the anomaly and wield them for herself. She would create a word of uniform, a universe of equality. No one would be rich, no one would be poor, all would live in tranquillity. The way her masters told her it would be.

"I'm tracking a lot of data coming from his residence." the knight suddenly knocked her train of thought, his deep voice beckoning her attention from her contemplation. It was dark now, the autumn sun already buried beneath the horizon and the moon starting to present itself, shining brightly on their home. "He's aggravated, distracted. There's some kind of time anomaly in his home and it's got him thinking about something. He's planning something, alright, but I don't think he has a clue that we're going to strike tonight. It's perfect." The heavy Indian nodded appreciatively, "He'll be dead before he knows it." The assimilator frowned and shivered; she hated the idea of killing that boy, but he was their enemy. He would oppose them and try and stop them, and without her knight on full alert, he would succeed in destroying her.

"If you can, Sanjit, please don't hurt anyone." Ahmed turned to her, his brow raised, "If you attack anyone, Foreman Alistair will be-"

"Don't say his name like that!"

"Will be fully aware of what we're doing and he'll instantly move to stop us! So please, keep calm." From their created space, private to the outside world, Rébecca smiled, "If I can control Miss. Suzumiya, the superiority of the Entity will come crashing down and the Canopy Dominion will finally restore peace."

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><p><em><span>5 pm, Nagato's apartment<span>_

Time was distorting, refusing to work in one area. An anomaly that the humans so loved to cause, Clarke thought with irritation as he flicked up the collar of his shirt in the mirror and looped his tie around his head.

"Girls?" he called to the apartment. The two interfaces, still in their casual clothes, poked their heads from Nagato's room, "I need you two to go into my room for a few minutes. I think the opportunity I referred to earlier has arrived. The door's unlocked, help yourselves to whatever in the fridge." As they nodded and headed for the adjacent apartment, Clarke knew they'd be too polite to touch anything once they were in there. He also recognised the life form at the source of the time disruption. Not from his data analysing skills, but from the perfume she bore.

"Come in, Mikuru, I'm just getting changed." he called to the door before she had a chance to knock. The door gently clicked open and Clarke spied the gorgeous time traveller in the reflection of the mirror. "My, my, time traveller, you're certainly dressed to impress. I always could tell you had a thing for Kyon." The woman gave him a little frown,

"I never did like those eyes of yours, Al, and I'm not talking about that stare you've got on me." Clarke laughed evilly, Mikuru pouting more and more,

"Oh, come on, Mikuru, it was once!"

"You... You hypnotised me into... You know what!" Clarke nodded as if appreciating a point, but the look in his eye was one of a hunter that had trapped his prey.

"Well, Mikuru, if you want to put our little night of human indulgence down to my manipulation of data, you're free to believe that. Just know that I didn't manipulate any data that night at all." Mikuru opened her mouth to retaliate, but just stuttered as she comprehended what Clarke had just said as her skin went darker than her hair. As the Englishman tightened his tie, he reached inside of his jacket and produced the time-bending paper that warned him of the disruption in time.

"Anyway, enough of your reminiscing, your note said that you have a proposition for me?" Knowing the nature and the past, and even some of the future, of the foreman, Mikuru knew just how to deal with this strange, delicate being. She sat him down at Nagato's table, loosening his tie and straightening it for him.

"Yes, this one comes from the top." she said seriously, capturing Clarke's attention and wiping his excited smile from his face, "Now, by telling you this, I'm going to start breaking up the pattern of time. Are you ready?" Clarke nodded,

"If the universe starts falling apart, I'll glue it back together."

"Alright, you're all going to die." Clarke's grin started to return at this sudden statement, but it fell again when he realised how serious Mikuru was being. "In the near future, certain events that I absolutely cannot inform you of will put you in a position of isolation and all of our colleagues in jeopardy. Now, if I let time go on, you'll all die at some point, and I'm not just referring to the SOS Brigade. I'm already planning to save one member of the Brigade tonight and that has changed time already, but I'm afraid that I can only save this individual. If you continue to act as you are acting now, everyone's blood will be on your hands from lack of action. That's the bad news, would you like to hear the good?" Clarke looked like he was dying to interrupt, but bit his tongue and nodded,

"Now, this event of _you_ dying in the future is inevitable, it will absolutely happen. It's a pre-decided fact that you will die there, but I give you the choice to save the Brigade and with them so many more." Clarke held up his hand for silence, looking suspicious,

"Answer me this, Mikuru, as this is all I want to know; are the lives of my interfaces included in this equation?" Mikuru shrugged, not giving an answer, but something in her eyes told Clarke otherwise. "Alright then, you're building up to something I'm not going to like. Go ahead, I can take it, what's the catch?" Mikuru chewed her lip a little,

"You've got to trust Haruhi, Koizumi and Kyon-" Clarke was already standing, turning away from her,

"You insult me by suggesting that I'd ever give anything but hatred towards your disgusting race, Asahina! You of all people know what these... these filthy APES have done to me! You think that I'm going to lift a finger to save any of them after what happened all those years ago?" The foreman's rage made the doors in Nagato's house rattle dangerously, the light flickering on and off as he panted, his eyes ablaze. But Mikuru was calm; she knew how to combat this defiance.

"Not even to save Nagato?" Clarke opened his mouth to defy any mercy towards humans, but the interface's name made him stop, "Quit acting like this, Al, or we're doomed. You know that you don't hate all humans. Come on, you haven't heard the whole deal. Now, here's where I give you the chance to write time; history is ready to be written, and as such, we have no information on how you came to overcome your... problems." Clarke grinded his teeth slightly as he was labelled, but he kept quiet, "How you came from what you are now and evolved into the caring boy you're destined to be is a total mystery. This means, Alistair Clarke, that the universe is begging you to do whatever you must in order to reconcile your vendetta against the human race and become whole. In doing this, you save yourself and save others." Clarke didn't respond. He looked as if he were trying to decipher Mikuru's bluff, running his fingers down his tie in slow strokes, trying to puzzle out the deal. "I'll leave it with you, foreman. Just remember what's at stake before you condemn it over the past." Mikuru stood without another word and quietly left the complex, leaving the foreman to his thoughts.

_Well played, time traveller, well played indeed. You knew that I would never help vast majority of humans, and rightly so, so you exploit my weakness superbly. You knew that I would succumb to the welfare of Yuki. Alright, human, you have a deal; I'll save your unworthy hides, but bear in mind that, if any of my interfaces are getting harmed for your organisation's gain, I won't hesitate to tear time open, drag you out by your hair and kill you myself.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em><span>6 pm, Nagato's apartment<span>_

Clothed in her new dress, Yuki Nagato crept silently back into her house with Kimidori, hoping that he wouldn't hear her. Her foreman was standing on her balcony again, watching the stars twinkle in the fresh night sky, but his emotions were even more confused than they were that very morning when he danced with Emiri. What could be going through his head to make him woeful and hopeful simultaneously? Maybe she should go and talk to him, try and help him work out what was wrong? No, that was a bad idea. Why would someone as great and almighty as the foreman ever need the help of someone as lowly as-

"Not even Poe himself could word just how beautiful you look, Yuki." Nagato jumped and looked up, finding that Clarke had slipped back through the door and was looking her up and down, his head at an angle as he nodded appreciatively. "I've heard accounts of what angels look like and I think you might have just matched them." He chuckled slightly and swept into a low bow, "I'm in awe of you, Yuki." As those crooning words left his lips, Nagato's heart skipped a beat. He said that to her? He called her beautiful and bowed to her? The stoic interface tried to form words, something to respond to this, but nothing came, she just stumbled and blushed madly. Clarke laughed,

"Aw, don't stutter and blush like that, Yuki, you make me feel a little dizzy!" Nagato could feel through her blush that the emotions of the foreman had changed from the confused mass of thoughts on the balcony to one of happiness since he had seen her. But it was something more than happiness, something deeper. "Whoops, look at the time! I have to get the masks to the other two before Haruhi and Mikuru arrive. Oh, that reminds me, Emiri!" He stopped halfway to the door and called to the kitchen, Kimidori emerging. "Now you two, I need to make tonight's plan very clear to the both of you; you two are not to engage any hostiles that present themselves, but you have permission to retaliate. The Dominion's lackeys don't know that we're going to be there; as far as they're aware, we're just people in the crowd. If they do notice you, just act as if we're there to enjoy an evening with the Brigade and nothing else. Emiri, I need you to stay to one side and scan every person that enters the dance hall and mark out any of the Dominion's interfaces. If they try and attack any civilians, tell me and I'll handle it. Other than that, keep anonymous. Yuki, you stay with me." Clarke held out his hand and a white ceramic mask formed from the air and dropped into his hand. Clarke stretched the elastic around his head and adjusted the mask, turning to show it to the two girls. For the most part, it seemed basic, but the empty curve for the nose was different; it had been replaced by a short, sharp, curved beak. He smiled his energised grin and his eyes glowed, making him look like a hawk with talons ready to strike.

"Yuki, Emiri, shall we?"

* * *

><p><em><span>6:45 pm, outside of the Komui pavilion<span>_

Koizumi and Kyon shivered in the cold air, stomping their feet and rubbing their arms briskly as a constant trickle of laughing guests swanned down a lantern lit path to a great pavilion, where warmth and music were emanating.

"Evening, gents." the voice of Clarke called from amidst the crowd, "You look a little underdressed there." A fearsome-looking hawk, flanked by two gorgeous animals, a cat and a peacock, approached the two boys, all dressed finer than any other guest. The hawk's tailcoat was onyx black and seemed to draw in the light from the surroundings, bar the glowing white shirt that shone silver. The peacock bore a mask adorned with swirls of gold and a plume of azure feathers, all surrounding two lime green eyes that glittered. The cat's mask bore no feathers, instead sporting a spotted nose encrusted with tiny rubies and several whiskers that Kyon could've sworn were made of strands of silver, along with a thin pair of eyes that closely framed two orbs of brown gold.

"Here, you'll need them, unless you want to get snapped in two by Haruhi, that is." As Clarke unhooked his arms from his escorts', checked his surroundings and quickly formed a pair of masks in his hands, Kyon got a dreadful feeling; he looked like a medieval doctor with that beak, and those glowing eyes and cunning smile made it all the worse. "Here, for you two. Now quick, get them on and go greet the girls, they're just arriving now." In the illumination of the yellow lanterns and soft glow of the moon, Kyon felt a feeling of impending doom. Due to the past six or so months, Kyon's sense of danger was honed to a point, and as he reached his hand out to take the mask from the grinning doctor, he felt like he was making a mistake. What was Koizumi talking about, how could someone like this be trusted? No, that wasn't right; he would have to trust the good doctor whose eyes flamed, he would trust the time traveller that had taken off from his home whilst he was asleep to join Haruhi. With a tug of apprehension, Kyon watched as his black jacket glowed gold in the lamplight as he took a mask from the doctor and placed it over his face. It was heavier than he expected, but at least he looked the part. "I'll see you both inside then. Come on, girls, I think we have some time to dance before we get down to business." The hawk presented his arms and the cat and the peacock latched on, the three of them proceeding down the flagstone path with the crowd to the pavilion, leaving the two boys alone. Kyon noticed, with no sense of envy, that his and Koizumi's mask bore no extravagant beaks or feathers.

"There they are, just under that archway. My, they do look beautiful, don't they?" Koizumi pointed over the crowd and Kyon leaned to see what he was indicating to. Marking the beginning of the festival's walkway from the street was a large wooden archway, adorned with the same lanterns as the path. Standing beneath the arch were two girls, their heads twisting, searching for someone. Kyon lead the way, skirting the crowd, shuffling towards the two girls. He appeared behind them and tapped the shorter girl on the shoulder, who spun to meet him. In the moment that she turned, mask covering her face with hair streaming over her shoulder, Haruhi took Kyon's breath away. She wore a dress of black silk that hung over her left shoulder, exposing her right arm that contrasted against the dark dress. A band of gold around her waist clung the silk to her hips before flowing around her legs, making her look as if she were floating. Mikuru was still wearing the white dress that crushed her chest, much to Kyon's enjoyment.

"There you are! I thought that you guys were just gonna leave us here. Come on, let's go!" Haruhi barked impatiently, yet she stood totally still. Her head was high as she stood as if waiting for something, before shooting a glare at Kyon. "Well? Look, Koizumi knows what to do!" Kyon jumped at the ferocity of his leader and searched for the esper, who was already arm in arm with Mikuru. That cheating son of a- "Like this." Haruhi's voice was suddenly gentle. Kyon felt a soft tug on his arm before a weight landed on his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat as he looked down to the sparkling gold mask and flowing hair that rested on his, her arms curled around his. Remembering what he was supposed to be doing, Kyon started to walk, his leader silent beside him. He couldn't quite think of how to explain it, but he felt a feeling of achievement.

"Sir, they're here." Emiri whispered into Clarke's ear, "But I get the feeling they have a trick up their sleeve, sir." Clarke activated his scanner and released a pulse of data into the room, the signals reading every life form in the room and relay their findings back to the foreman, who was suddenly very concerned.

"Sharpen those senses, Emiri, it's not just those two by the band, they're bloody everywhere." Emiri adjusted her scanners and found the crowd that Clarke was talking about, all of them circling the band to one side of the pavilion. The three interfaces had stood aside anonymously as the crowd filtered in, Emiri searching each person who entered, trying to discover if Giles and Ahmed would be audacious enough to try and attack Haruhi in public. And it was a good thing they came; eight of the 'people' in the pavilion weren't people at all, they were Ahmed's escort. The general of the Canopy Dominion and his elite guard had all gathered here this night.

"Sir, how should we proceed?" Nagato asked, her whiskers brushing Clarke's arm as she turned to him. Clarke's mischievous grin took a cunning tone as his clear eyes met hers,

"We'll play nice. For now. Emiri, stay here and keep an eye on Ahmed's lapdogs, make sure they don't start acting to oddly. Yuki, if you would do me the honour?" She turned to him in confusion, unsure of what was being asked of her, but she felt her heart flutter a little as a warm grasp curled around her hand. Clarke straightened up and his smile relaxed a little as the classical band that had assembled on a small raised stage played the first testing notes on their instruments. A squat, sweating man dressed in a deep purple suit with a wispy comb over, accompanied by a frail-looking woman with a heavily made-up face and a garish red dress, hopped onto the stage and took a microphone each. The feedback squealed a little, the sweaty man mopping his glowing red face.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to my travelling masquerade show! My name is Mr. Akio Komui and this is my lovely wife, Sanae." There was a smattering of polite applause and Akio continued his introduction of the band, but Emiri stopped paying attention; no wonder the foreman was frustrated about being in public today, the Dominion's very own Combat Commander Ahmed had requested his personal guard to be present in the area of Miss. Suzumiya. These very dancers, clapping politely somewhere in the crowd, were the same beings that had struck the Data Integration Thought Entity many crushing blows in its war with the Canopy Dominion. Then again, all was not lost; Sol's ancient, mysterious and utterly terrifying foreman was onsite and ready for the fight. Emiri took solace in the fact that, despite being surrounded by masked enemies whilst she herself was barely capable of defending herself, Alistair would be close. He would protect her, no matter what.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to take your partner's hands and prepare yourself for the first dance." Kyon, Haruhi, Koizumi and Mikuru ducked beneath the glowing white of the pavilion entrance and watched as the hastily made wooden dance floor was filled in a rush of movement, suits and dresses of all creeds and colours swirling until only silence and stillness was left. The conductor roused the band and strings were prepared, an intake of breath sweeping over the room.

"Kyon, would you mind dancing with me for a minute?" As Kyon watched the dancers began to move in synchronisation, he was suddenly tugged away by Mikuru. Haruhi stumbled a little under her support being taken away, but she had no time to reclaim him, as he was already lost in the crowd.

"Miss. Asahina, what're you-"

"Look back to Koizumi, quickly." she quietly pleaded, still pulling him quickly by the wrist through the crowd. Brushing beside the slowly moving dancers, Kyon craned his neck to look back to Koizumi and Haruhi, who were looking a little bemused. "Those two men behind them? They were aiming to kill you to distract Miss. Suzumiya from another attack." And sure enough, two sharp masks with serpent slits for eyes loomed over Haruhi's shoulders, peering above her bright red mask. Before he had a chance to see what they did next, one hand was suddenly forced onto Mikuru's waist and his other around her hand.

"Just follow my lead. Keep calm, we don't want to attract attention." Kyon's heart rate had picked up for so many reasons, but he did as the time traveller asked and let her lead the gentle travelling sway across the floor whilst feathers tickled his ears. "Don't worry, you're safe now. That's the first attempt dodged." She quickly stopped and gasped, but then laughed and shrugged her shoulders, "Oh well, if it's not going to happen, I guess I can tell you; you see Kyon, those men were about to kill you so Clarke, Nagato and Kimidori would be distracted. In the confusion of the crowd, Miss. Suzumiya would be subdued and her powers assimilated into another interface, letting it take complete control of the universe. We've dodged the first strike, but there are more coming our way." As the dance went on, a sly smile crawled onto Mikuru's face and she gestured to a pair of dancers that had appeared beside her and Kyon. The girl the man was dancing with was wearing a midnight blue dress that looped around her neck and exposed her back all the way down to her tiny hips. Her frail arms combined gracefully with her partner's, the two dancers gliding with ease and several impossible thin cords brushing Kyon's arm. Could it be-

"Having a good evening, Alistair?" The doctor turned his piercing eyes to Mikuru and laughed,

"We meet again, Miss. Asahina. You'll want to hang onto this one, Kyon; even in fifty three years, she'll look like this." Kyon was about to ask what on earth he was talking about, but Mikuru fixed him with a glare,

"It's not polite to talk about a lady's age, Alistair, but I'll take it as a compliment." Kyon felt the girl's hand twist in his slightly as she checked a watch on her wrist, Clarke and Nagato rotating so Mikuru could whisper into the doctor's ear, "Three minutes." The doctor nodded solemnly and locked eyes with Nagato, no doubt communicating in their language without language, allowing Mikuru to continue her explanation. "Now, Clarke's job is to protect Miss. Nagato and Miss. Kimidori. Both you and Koizumi, as I'm sure he's told you by now, don't mean anything to him, you're both expendable. But with the way time was going to go, Miss. Nagato would try and save you from being killed by the entrance and she herself would be killed. Clarke would follow this pattern and be ambushed and over-powered by Ahmed and his eight best fighters that are hiding somewhere in this room. Miss. Kimidori would try to help him and they would both also die. But now that we have dodged the first attack, Clarke has a chance to change time the way he wants. I've told him all of this and hopefully he's going to respond to it in a way that will change time for the better." To Kyon, having Clarke change time and, whether deliberately or not, saving him sounded good, but there was something in the way Mikuru finished that sentence that worried him.

"Miss. Asahina, what do you mean 'hopefully?' Don't you know what's going to happen?" The time traveller bit her lip and gave him an almost apologetic look,

"I'm sorry, Kyon, I'd tell you if I knew. The problem is that, by saving you and giving Clarke the knowledge of when certain events are going to happen, I've changed time completely. I'm afraid that every set event that Clarke changes alters the future, but I don't know what he intends to do tonight. The future of you, me, Miss. Suzumiya, Miss. Nagato, Koizumi and every interface that can ever exist are all in his hands. I just hope he doesn't do anything that will disrupt Miss. Suzumiya, but who can tell what's going on behind that smile? All we can do is dance, so just follow my lead and trust in my judgement, okay?" Kyon nodded unsurely and nodded, allowing himself to be stiffly led through the dance around the room as the doctor decided his fate.

"Emiri, we have twenty more seconds. Find them." Clarke whispered to the peacock that waded and weaved through the crowd to receive her orders through speech, for it was too risky to send data signals lest they give themselves away. The peacock nodded and surveyed all of the dancers, searching for who could reach Kyon in the next twenty seconds. There, a pair of dancers were moving at an odd angle and were on a collision course with Kyon and Mikuru very soon. Emiri pointed this out to the doctor, who nodded. Mikuru looked at him with serious eyes,

"It's up to you, foreman. What will you choose? Are you going to collaborate with us? Or is there going to be bloodshed?" Mikuru turned back to Kyon with her serious eyes and looked as if she were anticipating being hit, making Kyon's eyes widen with fear as he craned his neck to check for danger.

"Keep calm, Kyon. Just keep dancing." Mikuru muttered, her eyes glistening with unmistakable fear as she waited on the doctor to protect her partner's life. In the corner of his eye, Kyon saw a couple of dancers break the dancing ring and skew straight for them across the empty spot in the middle of the floor. There they were, on their way to kill Kyon. They'd get here any second-

"I've already chosen, Miss." Clarke hummed with a snarl beneath his mask, "But I'm doing this the way it suits me. Yuki, shall we take the lead?" As the two dancers were a yard away from Mikuru's back, the doctor and the cat raised their arms and spun like hurricanes into the centre of the dance floor, heading for the killers. Kyon saw the flash of surprise glint in the male dancer's eyes and his jaw dropped as Clarke's coat tails spun around him. The two aliens circled their opponents, becoming a blur as they span. Not that the humans could see it, but Clarke's arm darted out with such incredible speed, the two elites had no time to defend themselves against the ambush. The moment Clarke's body made contact with theirs, all of their existence was erased. No data floated away like glitter in the wind, they simply ceased. As eyes were attracted from the crowd to the two blurs in the open centre of the floor, a thud of bass pounded as Clarke and Yuki's hands met and they continued their slow dance perfectly, the crowd applauding the two young dancers' skill. Mikuru chewed her lip again, cautiously watching several of the guests turn to their partners and glance over at Kyon. Had they realised that Clarke and Nagato were interfaces already? They would have to see. Komui applauded and bounced back onto the stage, picking up the microphone.

"Alright, a very good display. A well-deserved round of applause for our young pair in the middle! Now that we've loosened up, we move onto the Cuckoo's Waltz, so boys, on my side and ladies opposite." The room said goodbye to their partners and started to divide, Mikuru giving Kyon's hand a reassuring squeeze,

"It's alright, you'll be safe." she whispered, "Put your faith in Alistair and he will put his faith in you." Right on cue, the doctor himself approached the two and led Kyon away by the arm, lining him up besides the rest of the men.

"Alright, Kyon, I take it Mikuru's explained our deal? I scratch your back and I've decided that you'll be the one to scratch mine. Just play along tonight and keep dancing with Mikuru and I'll put holes in anyone who comes near you, deal?" Kyon was taken aback by the protective tone in Clarke's voice and the doctor clearly noticed his own edge, "Look, if I don't change... certain things about my personality, there's a chance that Yuki will be harmed because of it sometime in the future, and there's no way in this realm of existence that I will let my own subordinate die. You hear me, human?" The doctor looked him equally in the eye, much the same look that he gave Koizumi in the failsafe, "I will destroy anything that tries to harm her." The whispering pavilion went silent as Komui descended the stage, along with his wife Sanae.

"Alright, as I said, we're going to have a bit of fun and dance the Cuckoo's Waltz. Now, for those of you who don't know how to dance the Waltz, my wife and I will demonstrate." Komui approached the line of boys and started numbering them one and two. Naturally, Clarke was named one and Kyon got two. "Alright, all boys numbered two and all girls numbered one step into the middle." With a lurch, Kyon complied and walked forwards and stopped before a girl-

_Kimidori? You're my partner? Huh, I guess that's something to hold onto, for all it's worth._ The girl in the feathered mask that walked out to meet him awaited Komui's instructions, looking oddly jumpy.

"Now boys, the girl in front of you is now your new partner. When I call out the number two, I want the boys and girls that are now pared to skip out, circle their partner and skip back into their line. Then the other side of the room will skip out and repeat the same. Let's have a practise!" Kyon was thankful that Clarke made him a mask that covered all but his eyes and mouth, for no one could see him blush as he skipped out of line with half of the room, circled Kimidori's thankfully small body and dangerously skip backwards, slightly bumping Clarke on his way back. The doctor muttered something before skipping out with coat tails flowing, looking far more graceful than Kyon as he circled his new partner. Kyon stifled a laugh as Clarke was forced to dance with a fully-grown woman, thin but a full head taller than him. As Clarke backed back into line and Komui started explaining the next part of the dance, the foreman turned his head stiffly to Kyon. Kyon met his eye and his heart stopped when the world turned grey again. No! What did Clarke have to show him that was so important-

_To my right. And my new partner. Look familiar? _ Clarke hissed in panic within Kyon's head, his eyes returning forward and the colour returning just in time for Kyon to catch the eye of the man to the right of Clarke. He was huge, intimidating, his eyes narrowed in suspicious confusion at Kyon, as if trying to work out who was behind the mask. Kyon's eyes snapped away and he focused on finding his Clarke's new partner. There she was... Oh... There she was. Kyon swallowed a lump in his throat uncomfortably as he was suddenly very cold in Sanjit Ahmed's shadow. Had he recognised Clarke or him? No, he couldn't have, he would have attacked already.

_Clarke, you better have something good up your sleeve!_

"Now, let's try it, shall we?" Komui called happily, full of life at one end of the hall, "Pair one, go!" All heads craned to look down to the end of the hall, where one man and one woman skipped out, circled and returned, followed by the next pair. Kyon took a few deep breaths as he saw Koizumi in the third pair, too far to help if something happened to Clarke. Kyon's feeling of dread redoubled as the huge Ahmed bounded forward in three steps, nearly crushing the girl with the exposed back and the cat mask that skipped daintily around him. Out of instinct, Kyon's muscles tensed, as did Clarke's beside him, as the oxymoron pair backed away. Kyon watched with interest as Clarke skipped to meet the mask that undoubtedly concealed Giles, whose beaming smile was clearly meant to encourage her younger partner.

"Alright, now that we've all had a practise, we'll do the dance in earnest. One, two, three and!" Komui called, the band bursting into life and strumming an up-beat tune. "Alright, number ones, go!" And just like that, the dance began. Clarke took off with startling speed, looping Rébecca and returning precisely and without flaw. Kyon attempted to do the same, but almost tripped over his own foot, managing to scuttle back into line just in time before anyone noticed.

Finally, after several repetitions, the Waltz came to an end. As panting dancers regained their breath, another slow waltz began to play, inviting the couples to take respite on the floor. Clarke quickly darted away from the towering Ahmed and Giles and pulled his two girls away from them, hunting down the time traveller in the crowd with an unsure Kyon in tow.

"Mikuru, that's two of the eight interfaces down," Clarke reported when the five found an empty corner of the pavilion, "But Giles and Ahmed have turned up to make sure everything goes smoothly. Now, I've chosen Kyon here to be the instrument to help free me, so I need you to keep a close eye on him all night." Mikuru narrowed her eyes as Kimidori pretended to fix her dress and Nagato wandered off to get a drink from a punch stand with the simple quiet comment 'refreshment,' both keeping an eye out for any eaves droppers and any Dominion interfaces.

"What do you mean Kyon's your instrument? I can see that old glint in those eyes, Al, what are you planning?" Kyon checked the doctor's eyes and was a little worried when he saw that they looked no different from normal.

"Guys, if I can interrupt? What's going on? What am I going to have to do?" Kyon asked, all eyes turning back to the doctor, who gave him a wink from beneath his mask,

"All in good time, Kyon, all in good time. For now, just enjoy your evening and keep your head low-"

"Sir," Kimidori hummed, squeezing his arm. Clarke didn't turn around, instead raising an eyebrow beneath his mask,

"I'm not responding to word until you start calling me by my name, Emiri." The peacock was looking out of the circle of people, over to another outskirt of the pavilion,

"Alistair, we have a problem. It's Nagato!" Kimidori actually started to sound a little worried, but Clarke laughed without turning,

"What about my Yuki? She better not have found another boy to-" The doctor's eyes shot open and his coat tails snapped like whips as he spun to face the same direction, "Bastards, where are they? Emiri, stay here and protect these guys, I'll be back." he snarled like an enraged bull, storming off through the crowds. Mikuru stepped forwards and placed her hand on Emiri's shoulder,

"Miss. Kimidori? What's wrong, what's happening to Miss. Nagato?" The green-haired girl raised her hands to her mouth in shock,

"They... They've found her..." The azure feathers atop her head waved majestically as she turned with weak posture to the time traveller, "She's sending an urgent distress signal to us. They're going to kill Miss. Nagato!"

* * *

><p>Nagato coughed and spluttered as her head emerged from the clear red punch, the liquid stinging her eyes. She tried to control her breathing as best she could, hearing the snigger of a female interface to her side,<p>

"Now, let's try this again. Where is the foreman?" asked the man in the serpent mask, his tight grip in Nagato's short hair nearly ripping it from her scalp as she whimpered. She blinked heavily and took a few deep breaths, trying to stand as tall as possible to lessen the strain on her hair. No one from the crowd could see her ordeal, as the six remaining elites had formed a ring around the table, one of them interrogating the small interface. In an effort of retaliation, Nagato raised her hand and tried to repulse the serpent's hand from her head, but she was punished for this attempt by another dip in the punch. As the small girl tried to push her head out of the drink, the serpent chuckled,

"Pathetic little creature. Where's your boss now-" Either the pavilion had got a lot hotter or the serpent's suit was tighter than he realised, for the temperature suddenly skyrocketed. His grip on the girl disappeared and he fell forwards without the support of the table, straight into hot dust. He panicked and pushed himself to his knees as fast he could, trying to work out what had happened. The dust was burning in his eyes, kicked up as he fell, blurring his vision. But even with this impaired vision, the serpent could tell that the surface that he was now kneeling on was no longer wood, but sand. The grains felt sharp beneath his hands and his eyes were streaming, the intense heat making his head pound and body burn on contact.

"Lieutenant?" the serpent wheezed, turning his vision and trying to locate the girl that had been beside him only seconds ago, "Lieutenant, are you there? What happened? Where's the commander?" No voice answered him, only the sound of a soft wind and rustling sand. The serpent groaned and took off his mask, covering his eyes and trying to wipe away the sand with his sleeve. He managed to clear his vision a little and tried to manipulate the data in his tear ducts, but they gave him no response. The serpent gazed at his hand in wonder and directed it at a single grain of sand. It did not move, decompose, swell with moisture, nothing. It simply lay there. Shrugging off his jacket and using it to shield his eyes from the sun, the serpent stood and took a long look around him. Surrounding him on all sides were endless dunes, ducking and rising likes waves of a yellow sea. In the far distance, an impossibly huge mountain reached up into the clouds, its size barely dwarfed by the mind-altering stretch of sand between it and the serpent. From somewhere to the man's left, there was a deep thud that made the sand tremble slightly.

"Lieutenant? Is that you?" the serpent called. He had to squint to see it, but two tiny specks in the distance were rising into the air. Like a pair of moths entranced by a flame, they seemed to spin around each other, bumping clumsily. Suddenly, a third speck darted into the air to meet them, colliding with them and releasing a faint crash into the air. The two specks stopped meandering and shot towards the serpent, who could do nothing but recoil as a pair of black blurs hammered into the sand either side of him, great waves of burning crystal rising. As the sand settled, the serpent dived into the craters to find two of his fellow elites, one boy and one girl, both dead. Their bodies were crooked and wrecked from the impact and the serpent's data manipulation could do nothing for them. Besides, his manipulation was offensive and it was no longer functioning. The serpent started to shake as he considered what terrible dimension this was when a faint screaming caught his attention. Recognising the voice of another elite, he clawed his way out of the sand pit and faced the dunes that surrounded him. Scurrying over one of them like a gecko and wailing like a banshee was a girl, her dress in tatters. She reached the peak of the dune and stumbled, scrambling desperately towards the serpent any way she could.

"Corporal! Corporal, what happened? Where's-" As the girl reached him, she tripped and fell into him arms, sobbing hard into his chest. She seemed to be trying to push him away from where she had come from.

"Run!" she sobbed weakly, "Just run! He's not weak! He's insane!" The serpent couldn't make the slightest bit of sense of what she was telling him. The girl turned to the dune over which she had stumbled and fell to her knees, crying in anguish as another figure followed her. It was a man this time, seemingly unharmed, but panicked nonetheless. He tripped and fell, rolling to the bottom of the dune and casting up a cloud of sand.

"Takashi!" the girl screamed at the top of her lungs, "Takashi, run! He's right behind you!" The serpent was about to ask what she was warning her friend about, but the answer became apparent; an orb of white bobbed over the dune calmly as if there weren't a care in the world and stood imperiously, raising a single black-clad arm. Though the heat made the air wave, the movement of the arm was obvious. As the interface Takashi hauled himself out of the sand and began to run towards the serpent, the figure on the hill clicked his fingers. Takashi screamed and stumbled, his body suddenly engulfed in flame as he tore towards his two comrades, a streaking burst of orange against the shifting hills of gold like a firework. The serpent held onto the girl tightly, who tried to run to the aid of the burning boy. Takashi dropped and flailed, his screams slowly dying with the flame as the sand buried the charred, thrashing body. The girl in the serpent's arms fainted, landing with a thud in the sand. The serpent made no move to pick her up as he ran through the arithmetic in his head, keeping a close eye on the figure on the hill; two of his comrades died somewhere in the hall, two were lying broken craters either side of him, one girl was at his feet unconscious and her partner was burned and partly buried a little way off. But that only made six, seven if the serpent counted himself. Where was his partner?

Almost as if the being on the dune could read his thoughts, the head of white hair raised its second arm. From its hand was a thin cord, coiled around what was clearly a slumped body. The body of the serpent's partner. The serpent raised his hand and his mouth began to blur,

"/setattraction_righthand_attract_interfaceR-Asami" were the final words out of his mouth, his hand outstretched expectantly. His dance partner bound at the figure's feet did not move, the reality of the serpent's and his comrade's weakness in this realm hitting him hard. He acknowledged the situation, but fear was not expressed. It was unnecessary. The figure one the dune shirked his jacket and tore his white shirt, revealing a lean body sculpted with faint muscles. A chest so pale that it shone like a pearl in the desert sun. The serpent watched with apprehension as the figure hoisted the rope into the air, Asami dangling before him without moving. Placing both hands on the rope, the figure started to twirl Asami's body around and around, kicking up a ferocious wind as the girl became a blur. With a snap of sound, the figure released the rope and Asami disappeared, a black blur ascending into the sky and disappearing within a second.

"You know what I find funny, Dominion dog?" called the pale, white-haired figure atop the dune. He laughed a little to himself, a far-off and faint sound, leaning back and curling his leg, is if in preparation for something. The serpent suddenly recognised that the figure was preparing a kick, like a batter waiting for a pitch. All that was left was the ball. Asami's bound body rocketed back down from the sky, the figure's leg uncurling and hitting the girl's body hard in the side. The sound of contact boomed like a cannon, the unconscious girl's organs rupturing and tearing with the force of the leather dance shoe and her body hurtling towards the distant mountains, all in the fraction of a second. "I laugh at the fact that if you dogs had realised that I was there in the pavilion, the eight of you could have over-powered me and killed me at any point!" The figure, who the serpent now recognised as the mysterious foreman of Sol, clutched his ribs and doubled over in laughter, watching as Asami's body tore past rolling plains of sand, the golden grains forming a tunnel around her as she hammered through them. Was this really the Alistair Clarke of the D.I.T.E? The same Clarke who Commander Ahmed reported as having 'a stare like tempered steel' and 'combat powers as of yet unknown, though assumed hyper-lethal?' The Foreman Alistair Clarke that Combat Commander Sanjit Ahmed admitted to fearing? The foreman managed to straighten up and stop laughing just long enough to point a finger-gun at the mountain, take aim and feel the recoil from the invisible shot. The serpent looked after Asami's trail of destruction, the same direction as the foreman's shot, to the great mountain that tore at the heavens.

There was a ripple of wind from the centre of the mountain, a ring of silver cloud caused by an impossibly fast object. The mountain seemed to shake and a dark indent bloomed in its great grey face. Cracks splintered from the centre of the sudden concave, chunks of dark grey grey rock blasting into the air. One raced towards the sky, slithering up the mountain and into the clouds like an anaconda hunting its wounded prey. With crack akin to a redwood's trunk as it falls in the forest, the vertical splinter in the mountain weakened the peak that disappeared into the clouds, shattering the wet rock and rumbling the earth again. The clouds suddenly parted as the peak that disappeared into the sky suddenly fell into view, falling slowly but hitting the ground with force that sent waves of sand into the air.

In a look of absolute horror, the serpent turned to the grinning foreman, whose eyes glowed brighter than the sun. Finally, the sound of Asami's body first denting the rock reached the serpent's ears, a great snap and an impossibly loud roar making his body vibrate and the dunes to cascade down all around him. After a full minute of unending sound from all the activity in the distance, the serpent realised how hard he was breathing and sweating. He wasn't that hot, what was-

"That one's called 'panic,' a response that's needed to trigger impulse reactions, usually to danger." The serpent looked up, the foreman silhouetted in the sun's glare. The serpent wasn't surprised to see that the foreman had strolled all the way down the dune, had resisted fall and didn't even seem to be bothered by the recently ended sound that made the serpent's body tremble. He didn't bother moving, he knew he was already dead. The foreman laughed, shaking his head and sitting down besides the serpent, "Captain Akiyama Ryuzaki, leader of the Combat Commander's elite forces. The greatest fighting force in the universe, interfaces created for indifferent, merciless offence, sitting in the sand like a lost pup. All that strength and not an ounce of fight in you." Clarke reached his hand into the sand and flexed his fingers, bringing up a handful of sand and letting it trickle through his grasp. The grains of gold gently skittered into the wind, pelting the serpent's dress trousers like a hail storm. It was such a strange situation; sitting in the sand of an alternate dimension to his own, surrounded by four corpses of his loyal subordinates that had died with painful ease and hoping that the unconscious girl in the sand beside the foreman would wake up, all whilst his killer grinned a grin so wide that majority of his teeth were on show. He was even trembling slightly, the sand waving as it fell back to the floor from his wobbling hand as he tried to keep the laughter down. The serpent, Ryuzaki, choked a little in his dry throat and met the stare of the foreman,

"What did you do to me? Why do I... feel?" Clarke laughed in wheezes, leering evilly at the captain,

"I? I did nothing. I've come to realise, captain, that there are several emotions that can turn even the most indifferent interface into a human. One of those emotions," Clarke raised his hand and twirled it, five bodies, only one living, appearing behind him, hanging like puppets in the air, "Is fear. Not just a little jump or startle, not the quickening of the heart, but fear of death. A fear that haunts you in your sleep, a terror that decays and degrades your body, and in some cases," Clarke laughed again, his impossible huge smiling leaning into to Ryuzaki's solemn face and leering, "Alters the mind." As the foreman started to laugh again, Ryuzaki looked to the floating bodies of his comrades and realised something; though his slightest touch could degrade data and the foreman admitted that he could be overpowered, there was no way he could defeat Alistair Clarke. For the foreman had somehow developed a most clever method of killing, a method in which he would never hesitate, a state of mind and body that would disregard pain replace it with the lust for death; madness. That was his weapon, and with it, he was invincible.

"What... What do you plan to do to me?" asked Ryuzaki simply. Clarke stopped laughing and gently took the captain's collar. Ryuzaki tensed and cringed, expecting a punch or kick that could shatter a mountain, but nothing happened. Clarke adjusted himself and leaned closer, his wide eyes millimetres from Ryuzaki's, his shaky laughing breaths touching the captain's cheek.

"See for yourself. Know what it is to fear." The captain's body froze and the foreman's eyes swirled, the amber swishing around pupils as black sin like an angry sea, forcing the memories of the white-haired boy into the fearless captain's head. As the installation of the memories finished, Clarke stood and left the false reality hit the captain, who still kneeled in the sand. The foreman turned to the bodies and heaved a great sigh, forcing the terrifying memories of his past from his own head and remembering the lavender haired girl for whom he killed for. The smile that helped blindfold his eyes and ice over his heart to hide him from the acts that he committed amidst the dunes was not his true self. The side that the time traveller had told him was in his future, the 'caring' boy he would have to become to save Yuki and himself, that was who he had to be. There was no other choice. Alistair Clarke pulled himself from his past and insanity and tried his very best not to think about what he was doing, the terror he was causing. But he had to do his job, he had to protect those under him. The final elite, who was regaining her senses, dropped from her suspension in the air, landing heavily with a little shriek of surprise. Clarke waved his hand and his artificial space obeyed him without question. Though the girl resisted with all her might, she was powerless to resist the orders that Clarke forced into her head. She was unable to speak, a puppet who bowed to her master's will. Clarke pointed to the captain and the girl started to run, a flailing stumbling lope towards wherever Clarke willed her. At the sound of the footsteps and splashing sand, Ryuzaki yelped and dove backwards, staring at the girl who was once his ally.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he bellowed to the girl who approached him, "It was you who killed them! Admit it! Murderer! Get away from me!" He pointed to the four floating corpses, all broken and unrecognisable husks of what were once people in formal dress and sequined masks, now reduced to dripping messes in a world that wasn't their own. Consumed by fear, Ryuzaki stood and hurtled himself away from the bodies, screaming, crying, begging the foreman for forgiveness and to make the 'killer' girl stop hunting him. But his plea went unheard, for the foreman had already left his realm of punishment, leaving behind the condemned, all the madness he used as his jury and the fury he used as executioner. Ryuzaki ran, his lungs burning and tears streaming, fleeing from the girl who only sought solace, but could not talk.

* * *

><p>Kyon had to fight against the urge to hug the poor dripping creature that approached the group. Clarke had been gone for a few minutes but Kimidori hadn't let any of them move an inch since Clarke's final order. The guests will still wandering about the pavilion, too busy drinking and laughing to notice the fragile girl who gently treaded amongst them, her short lavender hair dripping with red punch.<p>

"Miss. Nagato, are you alright?" Mikuru asked as Nagato finally reached Kimidori, her hands clutching her dress and her big eyes on the floor. The interface didn't look up, she didn't answer, she just stood there with her big eyes on the floor.

"Excuse me, sorry, please move." a humming voice politely commanded, the sea of dancers parting and the doctor, who seemed to be replacing his mask, stumbled into the group. "Emiri?"

"All here, sir." she instantly responded, relaxing her posture as Clarke twisted his head and surveyed the room, "There was no further attempt to harm the group. It seems that they singled out Miss. Nagato as she strayed from the group and was identified, possibly recognised by Miss. Giles during the Waltz." As Emiri talked, Clarke watched Nagato intently, scrutinising her form whilst she remained motionless.

"Yuki?" asked Clarke softly, his shoulders relaxing. Nagato slowly raised her head to look into his eyes, her lip wavering as her held his arms to her. In one motion, Nagato rushed in Clarke's arms and her back shuddered, tears slowly falling from her tightly closed eyes. Her cries came out in whimpers, her body gently trembling against Clarke, whose arms curled around her waist and slowly stroked her wet hair. "It's alright, Yuki. I know that scared you, but you don't have to be afraid now. I got them. They'll never touch you again." As he ran his fingers across Yuki's head, the moisture from the punch evaporated, drying her dress and hair as she struggled to stem the tears.

Kyon took a step back. He looked at the two interfaces and wondered, realising something that he had always _known_ but had never quite _comprehended_; the silent, lonely, stalwart Yuki Nagato who separated herself from all enjoyment for the sake of her mission, the only thing she knew. Alistair Clarke, the strange smiling weirdo that made all around him feel in danger and defended his friends and claim to humanity with frightening gusto. These two strange Brigade members were not just aliens sent from far out in space to do a job; they were people. Nagato cried weakly and Clarke looked a little shaken himself. Infallible, indestructible and utterly incredible aliens with supernatural powers no more, now two people who had been scared out of their wits.

After Clarke's shirt had started to get wet from Nagato's tears, the small girl wiped her eyes and pushed away, trying to recover some of her silent pride. Clarke's shirt dried and he sighed, an almost longing look in his eyes as Nagato returned to her usual neutral stance, replacing her mask and looking to the boy for orders. The hell of the Dominion's brutal ambush was over just like that.

But the hell of the night's dancing did not. Komui called for attention once more and called for a samba competition. Only around half the room were willing to participate whilst the rest waved it off in embarrassment. In the bustling crowd, mainly filled with the girls urging their partners to join in, the Koizumi managed to find the others.

"How are we doing? Any problems yet?" asked the mask that hid Koizumi, which addressed the doctor. He was in on this too? Clarke checked his surroundings and made sure Haruhi was inquiring after the samba with some of the other anonymous girls. He turned back to the esper and nodded stiffly,

"W- We had a little... upset a few minutes ago." Koizumi's head visibly cocked as the ever-smooth Clarke stammered, but he didn't make a comment. "All eight of Ahmed's elite guard are now disposed of, but Ahmed and Giles themselves are still somewhere in this room. I'm assigning Emiri to accompany you, esper." Emiri stepped forward and stood beside the tall boy, not questioning a word her leader said, "She'll keep an eye on you and you in turn will keep an eye on Haruhi. If either you or Emiri spot the tall girl in the red mask with green jewels, get Haruhi away from her and find me immediately, got it?" Koizumi nodded. Mikuru had been watching the conversation closely and monitored the way Clarke was talking. It wasn't his usual excited-teetering-on-ecstatic, slightly intimidating speech he used with humans, it was more... human. Mikuru's heart fluttered as she thought that his transformation to trust was developing, a further leap as Clarke actually patted Koizumi on the shoulder, muttering, "Good man." Koizumi pulled away from the conversation and he and Kimidori disappeared into the swelling ocean that was the crowd, Haruhi bounding into his vacant place from nowhere.

"Hey Alistair, thanks again for the cash to be these dresses! It's so sweet of you!" The girl was beyond happy, diving onto Clarke and squeezing him.

"Oh, um... You're welcome. Anything to make you happy, Haruhi. So, having fun?" He smiled as she began to blabber about he she had never done this before and had met loads of new people, Clarke just nodding politely and laughing whenever necessary.

"You know, I feel like I've known you for a long time, Al." Haruhi told the floor, her voice growing softer as Clarke's eyebrow raised. She looked up with a slight blush in her cheeks, "I... I feel like I can really trust you. Um, I don't know if you're together with anyone else tonight, but would you like to-"

"Alistair, it's time to dance." Clarke was suddenly torn away with tremendous force and barely prevented himself from hitting the ground as Nagato seized his arm and pulled him away from Haruhi. As Clarke and Nagato made their way into the centre of a ring formed by the non-participants of the competition, Kyon steadied a wobbly Haruhi.

"Hey, are you alright?" His attempt at being nice was cut off by a glare,

"What? Of course I'm alright! Now are you dancing in this or not?" she shortly demanded, pointing to the samba ring. Kyon quickly shook his head and Haruhi's eyes narrowed a little more. What was her problem?

"Alright, is this it? Well then, contestants, get ready! We'll be starting in ten seconds!" Komui's voice called over the noise of the pavilion, any stragglers, including the Brigade, rushing to join the ring around ten pair of dancers. "Now, everyone on the outside, I want you all to watch the couples carefully. Any mistakes they make, point them out and they're out of the competition! Last couple standing wins the ¥65, 000 prize! Aaand begin!" A short, sharp beat started, the dancers and their masks jolting sharply to the beat before flowing like water around each other. Ten pairs stomping, tapping and weaving with each other hypnotically.

"Look at Yuki!" Haruhi pointed, suddenly forgetting her irritation, "I never thought she could do that!" The rest of the Brigade leaned to one side like sea weed caught in an underwater current to see their friend and their... neutral strange ally. Their eyes widened in surprise as Yuki's chest thrust outwards and hips flexed and rolled with beautiful rhythm whilst Clarke coiled around her, nearly bumping her but not even grazing her skin. The menacing doctor was once again showing his true colours as he and the silent alien girl whom no one noticed danced with such fire and such passion that Mikuru felt herself start to blush at their bodies' closeness.

After five minutes of this incredible display of passion and control, seven couples had dropped and the eighth was being pulled out for nearly punching each other in a particularly daring twist.

"Alright, we're down to our final four contestants, a round of applause for these two fantastic young couples." The crowd applauded loudly as the display went on, "Now this is truly a dance to the death, ladies and gentlemen! There can only be one winner in this, so we'll need to make sure that the conclusion is worth the wait. If I could ask both pairs to stop their dances and freeze where they are. You have one minute to catch your breath!" Kyon took a moment to savour those words as the forms of the two opposing interface factions relaxed. The doctor gave a little nod to the cat, who returned it and backed away a little whilst the boy advanced on the tall girl in the red mask, who smiled pleasantly.

"Well done, young man. You're very good at dancing! Do you and your partner do eet often?" Clarke watched carefully from the corner of his eye as Ahmed stared at him; the lumbering Indian was working it all out. If Clarke turned his head even a fraction, the back of his head would expose his white hair and give him away, but he didn't seem concerned.

"Actually, my sweet Miss. Giles, I'm kept rather busy with your persistent attempts to assimilate Miss. Suzumiya's being into your own form, thus granting you her data-altering powers to you and the Dominion." Giles' eyes widened as Clarke gently clasped her hands in his, but he just smiled pleasantly. "But we're not here for a fight, are we? My Yuki and I are just here to have some fun with our friends, is that so much to ask?" Rébecca looked taken aback by this claim and Clarke could see a flash of guilt flash in her eyes as she looked to him, then over her shoulder. Cleverly disguising it as a friendly waltz with swapped partners, Ahmed dragged Yuki across the floor until the four stood together, side by side with their original partners.

"Didn't you have some time anomaly to take care of, letch?" Ahmed hissed, Clarke laughing easily,

"You think I, the foreman, would be abated by something so minor as a time paradox? Ahmed, I'm re-writing time as we speak," the doctor cocked his beak to watch Ahmed accusingly, "Don't you think you're dangerously underestimating me?" he added dangerously. "Come on, Rébecca, talk some sense into him. I killed all eight of your lieutenants without you even noticing that I was standing next to you most of the night. You think I was keeping you alive for fun? I let you live to offer you an escape; the both of you leave immediately and neither of you have to die." Clarke let his offer hang as Komui called for thirty more seconds of rest. Ahmed didn't drop his glare beneath his mask,

"You seem to forget, _foreman,_ that I am the Combat Commander and I am also holding your subordinate hostage. One move and can delete her, just like that." Clarke left his face blank and stared at Ahmed, his hands still a firm grip around Giles.' After a few seconds of silence, the doctor leaned forwards expectantly,

"And?" Ahmed faltered, his eyes narrowing. Clarke's grin broke out as he laughed softly, "Oh, how cute. You think that she matters to me? She's a rank-and-file creation, something I can make in the blink of an eye, just something pretty for me to squeeze when I'm not having to keep an eye on your little ants of soldiers scuttling around. You also forget, _commander_, that I have Miss. Giles as a hostage." He laughed again, the corners of his mouth touching the edge of his mask as he smiled up to the Indian. "There are two things you can do here, Commander; you can delete my interface. After which, I shall delete the far more complex, one-of-a-kind Giles _and_ you in less time than you can comprehend. Everyone but me dies and you get nowhere. Or, you could go for option two; let go of the interface and I shall escort you off of the premises so you can stew over your latest loss to me." Clarke's heart hit his throat as he said those last words; had he taken his bluff too far? If Ahmed really did delete Nagato, there was no way he could keep his cool and destroy both of them. Giles perhaps, if his reactions were fast enough, but Ahmed was built for offence. One touch would distort and disintegrate any data it came into contact with, even Clarke's body.

Luckily, a glint of unmistakable fear flashed through Ahmed's eyes. Clarke acted on it and forced his smile wider, Giles beginning to whimper and her legs shake as he slowly crushed her wrists. Deciding to bow to Clarke's bluff, Ahmed discarded Nagato's wrists and stormed off, not even trying to attack the Brigade as he shunted his way through to the door. Giles seemed frozen with fear, Clarke's smile turning slowly to look her in the eyes as he started to tremble and her legs shake.

"Wh-What are you?" she whispered silently. Her eyes started to glisten with terrified tears as Clarke's knee slowly bent and hips swayed back, preparing a kick, "What are you going to do to me? Please, I didn't do anything! It's not my fault, I'm just doing what I was told to, I didn't want to hurt you or the gir-"

"You look beautiful, Miss. Giles." Clarke cut her off calmly, his lips gently meeting her hand. "But I think it's time for you to leave." He straightened up and stepped back, allowing Rébecca's cruel ice blue eyes to stare at him in shock for a moment before hoisting up her long dress and skipping after the commander. Within the space of an hour, the foreman of Sol had destroyed eight elite anti-personal officers and bluffed the stronger Combat Commander and the dangerous assimilator into a terrified retreat. And the humans that surrounded the victors of the samba were blissfully unaware.

The crowd started to turn to one another and murmur in confusion, looking after the two competitors that had suddenly taken off into the night. Clarke turned to Komui on the stage and shrugged helplessly.

"Well, um, I'm not sure what happened, but it looks like that elder pair have left the competition. By default, the ¥65, 000 prize goes to tonight's youngest couple!" Clarke took Nagato's hand and they both swept into a bow as the crowd applauded, Komui and his wife congratulating them warmly and presenting Clarke with an over-sized check. They were lead through the crowd and onto the stage,

"Now, may we know the identities of tonight's best?" The doctor gave an uncertain look to the cat, who gave him a reassuring nod. They reached their hands up and removed their masks, a few gasps reaching up as Clarke's white hair tumbled over his eyes.

"Alistair Clarke, sixteen years old, North High student."

"Yuki Nagato, fifteen years old, North High student." The crowd applauded again, the girls squealing and cooing as Nagato's hand found Clarke's and her head found his shoulder. After a final bow, the two winners hopped off the stage and made their way through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting all who congratulated them. Clarke reached the Brigade and ushered them all outside, Komui and his wife saying their final goodbyes to the crowd that stayed behind.

"Koizumi, could you mind this a second? I want to have a talk with Kyon." The night air was cold, colder than it was before the dance. Kyon wished he was back inside the warm, well-lit pavilion with the rest of the dancers, where even he had to admit that he had a little fun being with Mikuru. Koizumi took the cheque from Clarke and led a chattering Haruhi and silent Nagato a little way away, leaving Clarke, Kyon and Mikuru alone. Mikuru looked to Clarke, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savouring the icy air.

"Well, Kyon, this is it. I'm putting my faith in the human that my subordinate has deemed worthy of trust." Kyon didn't need to ask who the subordinate was, but he did feel a little honoured. "I have to put my trust in you and hope that everything comes out for the best. Don't take this situation lightly though, Kyon, 'cause I rewrote history not for you, but for Yuki. Mess this up for whatever spite you have for me and you sentence her to death." Clarke finished with a little hiss, warranting a little nudge from the time traveller to calm him down.

"I'm sure Kyon understands the severity, Alistair, just tell us how you're going to do this already." Clarke's neck popped a little as he looked into the stars and removed his mask.

"Well, it's a little complicated. It goes a little something like this." Clarke lowered his head-

_I really should've seen it coming, but after entrusting my life to this guy for the night, it only seemed polite to meet his eye. For the third time, my reality stood still and everything turned to grey. The colour drained from all around me and my mind was yanked from my body, being thrown into the dark pupils and swimming past the ring of amber._

Mikuru gasped as Kyon suddenly disappeared before her without any warning.

"Wh- What happened to him?" A terrifying thought occurred; many events had not yet happened through time. This was not the Clarke that she knew. This was still the Clarke who was a slave to fear and verging on a killer. "Alistair Clarke, what did you do to him?" Mikuru suddenly screamed at the boy, fury and panic building in the cold and dark night. Clarke turned slowly a met her furious stare without fear, his lips curling with the ghost of a smile.

"As I said before, Miss. Asahina," Clarke met her eye, his smile growing and revealing his solid white teeth, "I'm doing this the way it suits me. If you have any objections to methods, please express them in the next three seconds." Mikuru's eyes shot open,

"You don't- What have you-" And then she was gone. Not into Clarke's head, my goodness, no. Mikuru Asahina of the future had ceased to exit. For how could someone exist in a future that never existed?

_When I came to, the experience was a little unnerving, but also familiar. I was back in the failsafe, the strange world of blankness that stretched into infinity, the embodiment of my mind the only thing adding colour. But several things were different this time; for one, I wasn't in the same kind of suppressed calm, I could feel the weirdness of the blank world. Second, everything seemed a little darker, as if the omnipresent light that illuminated the white had dimmed, like sunlight submerged deep under the surface of the ocean. What was Clarke thinking? He wasn't anywhere around, so he couldn't give me any instructions. Was a memory supposed to be waiting from me? What else could I possibly do from inside his... head thing?_

"Foreign virus detected within the failsafe." a familiar monotone declared softly. Kyon spun on his heel and his heart leapt, for Nagato was standing right behind him. Of course, Nagato! The living, breathing deus ex machina. The walking, barely talking problem solver! Clarke must have assigned her to help him!

"Nagato! Boy, am I glad to see you! What are you doing here?" The lavender haired girl only looked at him with that neutral expression. Her hand slowly raised and pointed at Kyon.

"A virus has invaded the failsafe. The failsafe is now imperfect. Commencing deletion protocol." Nagato's mouth became a blur as her arm raised above her and swung like a pendulum. Behind her, the air began to shimmer. Enter the rainbow colours that Kyon had only ever seen twice before; it was the sight of data manifesting into something terrible. The data that moulded Asakura's arms into two shining bars of light that cut through Nagato's lungs with ease back in the strange classroom all those months ago.

"Whoa whoa, wait, Nagato!" Kyon cried, recoiling and flailing his arms in panic as the shimmering rainbows grew more violent behind the waving girl, "It's me, Kyon! You don't wanna hurt me, do you?" He nearly laughed with happiness as Nagato faltered at the words, her arm stopping its swing and the rainbows settling.

"Script error; virus is sentient. Former deletion protocol will be inefficient for total deletion. Progressing to phase two." Nagato raised both her arms and looked like she was starting a sway in a stadium crowd. The picture was laughably cute, to see little Nagato with her face so blank and serious, waving her arms above her head. Until the air burst with sound, buzzing like an armada of chainsaws, the rainbows diving high into the sky and forming a net around Kyon, slowly closing in, threatening to slice him apart.

"Stand down, failsafe." another voice muttered, "That's no virus." And just like that, Nagato stopped speaking in the impossibly fast language and the rainbow net of noise and light ceased, her arms falling still by her side. Kyon turned and found that something, or rather someone, had materialised where there was blankness only minutes ago.

_The scene that greeted me was strange, so very out of the ordinary. Two boys sat on opposite sides of a large chessboard on raised thrones, overlooking the game. The board was far out of proportion, the black and white tiles a metre each and the playing pieces up to Kyon's waist. Kyon looked to the throne on his left, the source of the voice. Atop it sat Clarke, who stared at the board with intensity. He wore a loose white shirt with buttons open to his chest, a pair of frayed jeans and a pair of Converse. He was dressed very casually, though he wore a look of immense concentration, staring at his white pieces, calculating his move from on high with exalted concentration._

The real oddity of the situation was not with Clarke or the huge game board, but rather his opponent; Clarke. Though this was not the same boy in white, he was the polar opposite. He wore a suit that had been tailored by great hands, a black shirt beneath a black jacket, a heavy trench coat draped majestically over his shoulders. He lay to one side of his throne, cocking his leg over one side and watching his opponent with glee. He wore a large top hat at a suave angle, the brim covering his eyes in shadow. That marked the end of the majestic vision. In the shadow loomed two wide eyes that burned and denied the darkness, along with a slit of white, a shining grin that stretched too far up the shadowed face. The dark Clarke watched his counterpart with that murderous grin the normal Clarke had shown Ahmed, a grin that covered fear and bluffed strength.

"I'm losing, Kyon." the white Alistair announced with a hint of dread, his eyes scrutinising the board. "I'm losing and I don't think I can win." Kyon surveyed the board and had to move around a little to make sure he wasn't seeing the situation wrong. He had played chess with Koizumi in the clubroom many times, so he was skilled enough to know that Clarke was being annihilated by his black-clad counterpart. He only had two pieces left, both as far back as they could be. He chuckled a little as he recognised the three foot white marble figures of Nagato and the adult Mikuru. But they looked off; fists raised, slightly crouched, a hint of fear in Mikuru's eyes. An odd design, a little creepy, but this wasn't a normal world. Kyon looked over to the other Clarke's forces and his eyebrows raised as he realised that the dark, smiling version was blatantly cheating. He had far too many pieces, each figure having to squash next to his comrade to fit on the board, regardless of not being on a tile.

They also bore no uniform style, scattered halfway across the board, approaching Nagato and Mikuru. Kyon counted twenty three of the female pieces in the same dress as their black-clad commander, all in dresses from a Europe centuries ago. Their faces were smooth and blank, bar the menacing smile that was jaggedly carved into the shining rock, their black knives shining as they stared down the two remaining enemy pieces. With a wrench on his heart, Kyon recognised the king and queen to be none other than Giles and Ahmed, taller than their pawns and smiling the same smile. Aside from those twenty five pieces, Kyon recognised with increasing confusion the eight figures from only hours ago. The eight of Ahmed's best soldiers, still in their masks and suits, were lined up as bishops and rooks besides their monarchs. Two whites versus a horde of thirty three blacks.

"Alright... Yuki?" Clarke spoke with a shake in his voice, his hand ratting as he pointed, "To E2." Kyon yelped as the marble Nagato, dressed in her school uniform, nodded over her shoulder to her commander and advanced one square. The black Clarke laughed suddenly, rocking on his throne and nearly falling as Nagato came to a stop. The little marble piece looked... worried to be where she was, only several spaces away from the disorganised black horde.

"Oh, Al, you think that you can win be offence?" the cloaked boy bellowed like a Norse god. "Jane, Bethany, Lucy and... Vicky, make sure she doesn't take another step." Four of the pawns from Europe cackled like hyenas, hopping and jittering forwards, brandishing their knives as they crept closer to Nagato.

"Yuki, E1!" cried the shaking Clarke, the piece obeying quickly and retreating to the back line. Kyon cocked his head as Clarke ran his fingers through his hair, surveying the approaching enemy.

"Hey, you realise that you've no way of winning, right?" Both Clarkes turned to him, one stressed and fearful, the other smug and grinning, "I mean, even if your pieces could move like that, your buddy over there is way more powerful. Even if Nagato takes out one piece, she'd be lost the next turn no matter what. Then Miss. Asahina would be left to defend herself from thirty two others-"

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?" Clarke bellowed in desperation, leaning over the armrest of his white throne, "Don't you think I know that I'm bound to lose?" Kyon was taken aback and found, to his horror, that all of the pieces had tuned to look up at him. Whilst all the black pieces and their commander began laughing like drunks in a bar, Nagato looked startled and Mikuru's legs had gone weak, her hands covering her mouth and scared eyes trained up to the giant. They could understand him?

"You see, Al?" the dark Clarke wheezed through laughter, pointing at Kyon, "Even your last hope know you're going to lose! Why not just give up, my friend? It would be so much easier than dragging this out-"

"Shut up! I'm in control here! Me!" The dark Clarke tutted and shook his head,

"Even the human can see the pattern; no matter what move you make, no matter how much you jitter about, it's only a matter of time until I close in and wipe you from the board." As he talked, the white Clarke shook his head, his fingers drumming as he trembled at the words. The white Clarke turned to Kyon and leaped down from the throne, retreating from the board as quickly as he could, Kyon in his wake.

"I- He- Oh damnit, Kyon, you see the mess I'm in?" He pointed to the board, "He's right, you know. It's only a matter of time until I run out of moves and he destroys the only two pieces I have left." He wiped his sweating brow and looked Kyon in the eye, "This is why you are here, Kyon. This is how I learn to trust; I need to win this game." Kyon's mind crunched at the information. He shrugged casually,

"Well, sorry, there's nothing you can do. We both just acknowledged that you're going to lose, so how can I help?" Clarke was wringing his hands feverently, eyeing the Europeans that stared without sight at Nagato.

"We play dirty. Kyon listen very closely to me; that guy over there _is me_. We are one in the same being, but so very, very different. He's insane, a killer, violent and reckless beyond belief. He scares me, Kyon, and if he wins that game, he literally overwhelms me. This is no game we're playing in my mind here, Kyon, we're playing for the right to _command_ my mind. Looks, things... things have happened to me. In the past. These events caused a different side of me to be released, my opponent over there." He jerked his head over to the black-clad Clarke, who leered even from afar. "There is only one way I can win that game Kyon; you. You are my most valuable piece. I need you to eradicate that version of me. Jack, I call him. Take him out and I not only control the board, it's mine to own." Kyon shook his head, trying to calculate his task,

"Alright, so... Jack over there, he's another side of your mind? And... what's so different between you and Jack?" Clarke spluttered desperately,

"Can't you see? I'm a person! That _thing_ over there is a monster! He is my fear, my hate, my anger, my bloodlust. Every evil emotion and mindset rolled into one avatar. You really want my powers at his disposal around Haruhi?" Kyon was starting to realise just how dire the situation was. Was this going on the entire time Clarke was around them? Clarke snapped his fingers and an array of doors appeared around the chess game, obscuring some parts of the board. "Remember Kyon, you're data now. The Yuki that tried to delete you is a security protocol of the failsafe, but she's useless to destroy Jack, because he's part of me. It goes against her logic to attack any aspect of me. Through those doors are my memories, human. I want you to go in there, face whatever is inside and destroy it any way you can. Do this and Jack will cease to exist." There was a boom from the board, Clarke jumping out of his skin and staring. The black pieces had began stomping their tiny feet, clattering on the board and hurling insults to him. "I- I'm sorry, Kyon. That's all I have time for. The game goes on and I have to keep playing. Now get in there and save me, for everyone's sake." Without waiting for questions, Clarke ran back to his high throne and hauled himself up, silencing the pieces as he sank back into his thoughtful stare.

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><p>"Alright guys, that's it, then." Clarke called, trotting over to his three friends and taking the cheque back from Koizumi. He removed his jacket and threw it over Nagato's shoulders, Kimidori already gone from sight, "I hope you two had a good time tonight!" Haruhi nodded and hugged him again,<p>

"Thanks so much for tonight, Alistair, it was amazing!" As they made small talk, Koizumi looked around, trying to find Kyon and the future Mikuru but seeing no one.

"Um, are we missing anyone?" he asked slowly over his shoulder, the group turning to him in silence, "Where are Miss. Asahina and Kyon?" Haruhi took a few paces forwards, peering into the trees and streets that bordered the pavilion,

"Did you bring someone with you, Koizumi?" She turned to him with a quizzical look, spotting his poker face falter for just a second,

"Um, no, not exactly. I'm just tired, it's getting late. We should probably head back home." Right on cue, Haruhi yawned and the excitement of the night caught up with her. Her body sagged a little and she tiredly agreed, hailing a taxi as Clarke muttered to Yuki. As soon as Haruhi was out of sight, the esper turned to the aliens.

"Alright, where are they, then? If they're out time travelling, I'll have to alert my superiors." Clarke raised an eyebrow as if he was expecting more.

"Um... Who are we talking about? Who's gone travelling?" Something wrenched in Koizumi's stomach; had Miss. Suzumiya done this? Of course, Miss. Asahina had stolen Kyon from her at the very beginning of the night and she didn't see him once. She must have gotten jealous and removed them from existence. Koizumi grabbed the slightly shorter Clarke's shoulders,

"Kyon? And Mikuru Asahina? Come on, Clarke, Miss. Nagato! You guys must know who I'm talking about?" Koizumi was getting desperate. But his inner anger bubbled and boiled when the boy flicked his silvery hair from his eyes, winked and played coy,

"Kyon? Mikuru? Never heard of them." His teeth glinted in his smile for a moment before the aliens turned curtly and made for home, leaving the tall esper in stunned silence.

"Clarke," Koizumi whispered hoarsely to the air, "What have you done? Kyon needs to be here to keep Suzumiya happy, and now you've sent him away. What have you done?"

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><p><em><span>Summary!<span>_

Emiri Kimidori, a known interface and cohort of Nagato's, enters the building complex that Nagato lives in and approaches room 710. She does not knock, however, as a quick analysis shows that there is no data emanating from the room, meaning that the occupant isn't there. Emiri then enters the room next to 710, 708, and meets Nagato, who looks strangely uneasy in her own home. Emiri disregards this and asks Nagato if she knows where the foreman is. With a single worried gesture, Yuki points to the sliding glass door that leads onto her small balcony. Emiri examines the area and is suddenly hit by a feeling of dread, as if terror exists behind that glass and that under no circumstances should she enter. But if the foreman was there, she had to go in.

Stepping onto the balcony, she finds Clarke lying back in a reclining chair, looking very peaceful as he watches the first rays of sun hit the sky. Emiri is used to seeing the smile and only the smile, so she is unnerved to be in such a hostile area with its source looking so calm. Clarke greets her without emotion, Emiri naturally asking what is wrong Clarke looks her in the eye and, without needing any data abilities, she can see a clear look of sadness in the boy's eyes. He then suddenly asks Kimidori if she regrets anything, to which the girl replies that she follows orders precisely, thus never doing anything wrong and therefore not being able to regret. Clarke contemplates this and claims that following orders in order to never regret is a creed that he has already broken, before mysteriously demanding that Kimidori promise him that she will never do anything that she would end up regretting, lest she end up as the strangely emotional foreman looked at that moment.

Sensing Clarke's data patterns turning more and more erratic, Kimidori asks him what fuels his sadness, clearly aware that Clarke is fully able to feel. Clarke portrays himself as an arrogant and foolish old man with mistakes that he regrets, wiping away his tears and tying to walk proudly as he enters Nagato's home and leaves Emiri alone to contemplate what just happened.

She concerns herself with what might be plaguing the foreman, reminding herself that Clarke is a fearfully strong and ancient being, defending her against the threats of the past three years with his smile, not needing to use an ounce of strength to win almost all of his battles. Not only that, but she is troubled with an order issued in secret to her by the Entity upon her creation; she is not to trust Alistair Clarke, for he had once directly disobeyed orders and had gone rogue, having no restraint on his powers. But Kimidori cannot figure one question out; if Clarke was now back under the DITE's control, why was it scared of him?

Calling Emiri back into the house, Clarke has materialised a large selection of new clothes for Kimidori and Nagato to wear. Whilst the girls are dressing, Clarke proceeds into the kitchen area to address and report to the Entity in peace. As he re-enters, Kimidori can feel that the air behind him feels sharp and hostile, meaning that the foreman is angry. Kimidori once again follows the foreman onto the balcony, where he is crushing the arm of the reclining chair as if it were made of paper.

Clarke is angered that he will have to be very loud that day and put lives on the line for the sake of the mission. He expresses his fear that something terrible will happen, but Emiri consoles him, Clarke laughing and vowing that he will tear the universe apart before anyone is harmed. Emiri is horrified when Clarke starts to disappear from reality. Emiri's senses, bar her sight, cannot pick up any trace of Clarke's being. He even starts to waver in the air, as if he were a gas. Clarke seems immensely happy, in a state of bliss, telling Emiri that he wished Emiri could experience the same sort of euphoria.

After Emiri pleads with him, she scrounges the reason that he should re-align on account of the Entity needs him and may delete. Clarke dismisses the point on the grounds of that the Entity doesn't care if he dies. When challenged that the Entity will delete him for ducking away from his service, he begins to talk about his 'trump card.' He explains that this one trick, of which the Entity is aware of, is powerful enough to keep the Entity from policing him. Ergo, Clarke has a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card that he can play whenever he chooses. To further prove his invulnerability, Clarke nearly levels the town in a meteor shower, to no consequence. Once Kimidori and Clarke sneak inside, Clarke comments that Nagato 'looks cute' in a certain set of clothes. He mysteriously turns away and Kimidori catches Nagato smiling. He also tells them that an 'old friend' will have a proposition from the future for him, and that he'll be 'breaking time.' When Nagato asks if it is forbidden by the Entity, Clarke produces an ace of spades and claims a hunch that he'll be allowed, resting the card on Nagato's table.

The Brigade meet at the cafe by the railways station, where Clarke shows Kyon that they will be attending a travelling masquerade fair. He hands out credit cards to the three girls so they can shop for their dresses. Clarke alters the data of Kyon's and Koizumi's clothes and changes them into tuxedoes, reminding them that he'll bring their masks that night.

Kyon arrives home to find the adult Mikuru has appeared once again, her younger, present day self unconscious beside her. She explains that she is there to take the present Mikuru's place in time and protect Kyon from dying, thus changing a major event in time.

Once at the party, Clarke, Nagato and Kimidori watch from the sidelines in dismay as they count eight interfaces, the elite forces of the Canopy Dominion, Ahmed's personal guard. These interfaces are built with no other purpose other than offence. They house no data alteration ability apart from destroying it, tearing collections apart.

Mikuru suddenly tugs Kyon onto the dance floor for the first dance, changing time for the first event; saving Kyon's life. Though this is irrelevant; if Clarke does not 'learn to trust humans,' the Brigade will die in the future. Clarke is destined to die 'in confinement' no matter what, so it is his decision if the Brigade lives or dies. Clarke and Nagato approach Kyon and Mikuru just as two interfaces make their way over to the only normal human to rectify the allies' mistake and kill him. Clarke informs Mikuru that once she had mentioned the possibility of Nagato getting hurt, he had decided that he will change, but the manner of the transformation shall be his to decide. Following this, he destroys two of the eight interfaces in total discretion, continuing to dance as if nothing had happened.

Clarke and Kyon next find themselves lined up next to Ahmed, though the giant does not recognise them due to their masks. Giles is also flanked by Nagato and Kimidori, a risky situation for all. Thankfully, the dance concludes with neither party, one unaware, being attacked. Everyone, bar Haruhi, meet after the dance and Clarke reports their progress so far. They are interrupted as Emiri gets worried and Clarke receives an SOS signal and tears off into the crowd; Nagato is being attacked.

The six remaining elite interfaces interrogate the terrified girl, submerging her head in punch and giving her time for air only to ask where her foreman is. Nagato refuses to give them the information and the interface with the serpent mask plans to kill her, but suddenly finds himself in a world of endless desert. He looks around and sees nothing, until two corpses of the other elites rocket from the sky, landing hard and making craters. A fourth interface, a girl, runs screaming over the dunes and pleads with the serpent to run. She is followed by two more figures, one an elite, one mysterious and unmoving atop a high sand dune. The female interface calls to the fifth, a boy named Takashi, to run faster from the immobile boy, and the serpent sees why; with the click of his fingers, Takashi suddenly ignites, burning to death in the sand. Five interfaces dead; two in the dance hall, three in the sand. The serpent and the girl, who has now fainted, made seven. But where was the eighth? Almost as if to answer the serpent's question, the figure on the hill hurls the eighth interface into the air and kicks her hard, her body flying towards a distant mountain. Despite the unearthly distance between the interfaces and the mountain and the incomprehensible height of the lone spire, the force of the girl's body causes a huge dent in the rock and cracks the peak, the rock falling from the heavens.

There is a few seconds of silence before the speed of sound can reach the interfaces, the serpent nearly being deafened. After the silence ends, the figure, Clarke, sits beside the serpent and tells him that the reason he currently fears Clarke is because Clarke has learned that there are a few emotions that can turn even the most robotic interface into a true human. The one that they have both experienced is fear. In the wise, sadly experienced words of Clarke;

"Not just a little jump or startle, not the quickening of the heart, but fear of death. A fear that haunts you in your sleep, a terror that decays and degrades your body, and in some cases, alters the mind." Clarke admits that the interfaces were perfectly capable of killing him at any time, that Ahmed overestimates Clarke's true power.

Though Clarke killed the other six interfaces, he has a far more sinister plan for interface that harmed his precious Yuki. With a gesture of his hand, he summons the four corpses from the sand to float behind him, the stirring girl with them. Clarke forces the serpent to look into his eyes and shows him what he has experienced. The serpent starts to flee from Clarke, who then forces the only living girl into silence and sets her running. Terrified of the floating corpses of her allies and her inability to speak, the girl runs to the serpent for safety, but he is too scared of whatever Clarke has shown him to stop fleeing from her. And so Clarke leaves them, six dead, two doomed for an eternity of hell. All for the sake of Nagato. But Clarke is not just leaving the interfaces in the sand, but something else; his insanity. Forcing the thoughts of puppies, kitties and Nagato into his head, Clarke manages to shirk the insanity and returns to the real world.

After a shaken Clarke and a sobbing Nagato calm themselves, they enter a samba competition for one final confrontation. After Ahmed and Giles finally realise that Clarke and Nagato are beside them, they are put into a stalemate. Through high-risk bluffing, Clarke forces Ahmed to choose Giles' life over Yuki's and they both leave, Clarke and Nagato the winners of the cash prize.

Outside, Clarke takes the future Mikuru and Kyon aside, explaining that he is trusting the human who Nagato has deemed the most worthy of trust. Clarke takes Kyon's mind and even his body into the failsafe, writing history with every move he makes. This course, however, means that the future that was intended never happens, consequently making the future Mikuru disappear. Clarke then bids Haruhi and Koizumi goodnight, Haruhi the only one who doesn't comprehend the terrifying fact that Kyon is no longer around. She doesn't even recognise his name.

In the failsafe, as virus scanner in the form of Nagato nearly destroys the sentient Kyon, but Clarke stops her. Playing a huge game of chess, two Clarkes sit atop raised thrones. One is dressed in modern white clothes, the other in black Victorian-era clothes. The black Clarke is winning and has no chance of losing, the white Clarke taking Kyon aside. This version seems to show fear, and the other, the evil insanity. Clarke explains that they are the two parts of the same person, but vastly different; the white-clad Clarke is human, feels fear and joy, the normal Clarke. The other is nicknamed 'Jack,' a manifestation of Clarke's anger, hared, fear and bloodlust. Whoever wins the game of chess wins control of Clarke's body, the other becoming repressed. Clarke explains that, through a set of doors that surround the chess board, are Clarke's memories. Kyon, now being data, must go into these doors, confront whatever is on the other side and delete the data. In doing this to these terrible thoughts within Clarke's head, Jack will be weakened to the point of death.

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><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

Well, that was a drag to read, wasn't it? It made me wonder if I was doing it wrong when Clarke sentenced the interface in the serpent mask to an eternity of fear, but then again, Clarke will do anything to punish those who harm his fellows. Especially Nagato. Also, you'll find out what exactly is the root of all this. Clarke's fear stes from a single experience, the same experience he showed the serpent, and guess what! That's an entire chapter! :D I hope you don't have a social life, 'cause you're gonna be here a little while longer!

To clarify, Clarke and Jack's chess game is directly representative of the balance of power in Clarke's head; though Clarke is still hanging on, Jack has more leverage and will win if he stays at his current power.

I chose Mikuru and Nagato to be Clarke's only pieces for a reason; they are the only people who the scared foreman trusts. Now take into consideration what Jack stands for; fear, anger and insanity. Bear this in mind when considering the Victorians, Giles, Ahmed and the elite guard that form Jacks forces when reading chapter 5! Where Clarke's Mikuru and Nagato stand for his trust, try and work out what Jack's pieces mean!

See y'all later!


	5. The Shameful Roots

_Early Author's Note!_

Just before you start, I'd like to explain what's going on with this chapter. As you will have no doubt figured out, the first paragraph or two of each of the chapters is a sort of monologue from Clarke. Well, for this chapter, we will listen to Clarke's monologue a little longer. Have fun!

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><p>Strange. Why am I only thinking about all of this now? I've had so long to think back over my life, yet it is only now that the memories are coming back to me. Maybe I'm just an old man with a lot on his mind. I can recall the first time the Entity took an interest in Sol. It watched the planets live and die, each of them blooming into life and dying like an unloved flower. But Earth was different. I pointed it out to the entity and we watched the creatures below us evolve, constantly creating and storing new data, evolving at a rapid rate. After they had ascended to a hive-mind like level of being, I was sent to observe how exactly they evolved. That was when I was born into physical form and sent to Earth. I took my name, recreated the clothes of the time and got to work observing the human race.<p>

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><p>I remember... the fog. It was cold there, the constant smell of the sea blowing through the cramped streets. The cobblestones beneath my boots were always wet and difficult to stand on without losing footing. Cold, damp, foggy dark, and yet not one of these creatures had the presence of mind to do anything about it. But this was the way people lived here, in this obviously primitive city. Sadly, London, the city of fog, was one of the most advanced civilisations that Earth had to offer me.<p>

It was night when I first formed into the physical world. I was naked at the time for I had no experience thus far of what exactly clothes were. I walked through the empty streets with the paraffin lamps hissing in their cases, barely providing enough light to illuminate the first humans that I saw. There were two male humans in a dark alley, one aged to around 68, barely a newborn to me, the other 34. The younger mans organs, from a quick data survey, were in poor condition and they were failing him. The older man, who, according to my observations as data, should have had a weaker body, had stronger organ and brain functions.

I watched as their heart rates picked up and their cells respirated, mainly their arms and legs. The older man was crying out, shouting in some strangled language as he struggled with the younger man. As I stood there and observed this strange display, the older male caught sight of me and started to howl at me, reaching out his arm to me in desperation. What was he offering me? The younger man pulled him back and swung his fist in to the older man's face, knocking the latter to the ground. He seemed to be injured, reactions slowed, noise level drastically decreased. As the older man lay in the wet street and pale light, the younger man hobbled forwards on brittle bones and began to savage the man, clawing at his clothes until he found a leather pouch. It cackled and opened the pouch, removing several thin pieces of paper, of which the locals had called 'pounds,' a physical representation of currency that allowed the purchase of items within the city.

I took note of this display and watched on for what the victor of the battle would do, which was about the time he noticed me. He turned and I could see the torn clothes that provided no protections from the cold, the dirt-covered face, the bloodshot eyes and the scarred hands. The creature howled at me, waving his arms. What was he doing? Was this a challenge to territory? Testing my strength? Ah, I see, he is asking me to join his ritual, his dance. My guess of the time was correct, as the poorly-dressed man started to charge me. Using what I had observed, I waited until he was within my reach range and swung my fist. As I made contact, my aim was a little off and instead of hitting the man's lower jaw, I hit his temple. This area was apparently vital to humans, as some of the neural impulses were halted and the scraggy man fell and hit the floor. I followed his example on the older man and searched his body, retrieving all of the money I could find. What an interesting concept of combat.

A little way off, the older man was making noise again and had pushed himself to his feet. His neural impulses were getting back up to normal speed and his muscles were beginning to wake up. It seems that the paralysis did not last for long. He leaned heavily against the metallic post and looked to find me, panting a little as his old heart worked overtime. He was better dressed than the younger man, a long, thick piece of cloth over his shoulders and covering his knees. He wore another, more rigid piece of apparel on his head, possibly to keep is cranium warm. As he leaned on the post, he saw me standing with my winnings over the body of the young man. He looked me dead in the eye and held out his hand, palm up. I had seen this before; it was a sign of submissiveness that their ancestors had used when recognising a stronger presence.

Deciding that my research would start with one who paid me respect, I walked to the old man and brushed my fingers across his palm, a sign that I would not harm him. I watched his face closely and saw his brow crease. Interesting. What could that mean? He looked down to my bare body and made the same face, talking again. I reserved the words in my dictionary, but that was not enough to calculate what the meaning was. He exhaled and glanced at a small mechanism on his wrist, his eyes widening upon seeing the machine. He spoke again and took of the long piece of cloth from around his shoulders and hugged it around me. It was heavy, but it warmed my freezing body. So they know that the cold weakens their bodies. Interesting. Was he treating me as a king or deity due to my triumph?

He placed his hand on my back and pushed slightly as he began to walk, still talking. Perhaps he was going to pay me homage at some form of shrine? I decided to follow the human and observe him further, so allowed myself to be guided through the misty streets. I surveyed the towering, cramped hovels that must have housed the beings on the lower end of the hierarchy, as the disease was strong in this area and the life form to space ratio was unbalanced. Strange creatures. Strange, but interesting.

The man led me to what appeared to be some form of high-tier domain, a large barricade of metal and stone forming a perimeter around a luxurious building, a far cry from the cramped city. An unhealthy, overweight human who stood beside the metal bars jumped slightly and bowed low to myself and the old man as we approached; had news of my strength already spread? The overweight human rushed to open the metal gateway to allow us access, bowing again as we passed him. The old man took me inside and many of the drones of the house, perhaps more who had heard tales of my glory, starting to swarm around me, females gasping at barely-clothed body and the males staring at my hair. The old man started to give orders and the drones scuttled back and forth, preparing fines linens, food and drink whilst I was led away by one of the drones, my faithful worshipper still at my side.

The drones were uniformly dressed in black and white but were clearly not as powerful as the old man. They all talked to me, placing their faces right in mine and talking slowly with wide eyes. Yet more body language that I would have to analyse. Throughout the course of my first few hours, hot water was drawn from pressurised metal pipes, I was stripped of what little clothing I had and was made to sit in an artificial hot spring. From there, the drones used the spring to wash me, dry me with cloth and dress me in much the same fashion as my worshipper. They really were worshiping me. Had they managed to creating pressurised systems without evolving past tribal-era beliefs?

I was led to a large room where many dead lesser life forms had been hunted, killed and ritualistically prepared for me and my follower's consumption. After being fed, I was led to a sleeping chamber and left alone. Interesting, very interesting research. Over the weeks that followed, I began to learn the language English, constantly storing and updating my dictionary and learning the various and numerous body signals that humans, conscious of them or not, used to communicate or hide their message. But language was not the only thing I learned about. I learned of emotions.

When I communicated this to the Entity, it was fascinated with the concept; how something that is simply matter can create such a strange concept. It was difficult to explain, but I slowly worked my way through context, speech, facial expression, reactions and body language, painting a picture of what these 'emotions' were. This took the Entity by surprise and was about to request my presence back, but a thought that would change my life and history itself occurred; I asked to stay. I could learn so much more from these humans. They were stupid, primitive, short-sighted and aggressive, yet the sheer constant flow of data nearly drowned me. They were geniuses, just too young to realise it.

So, the Entity taken aback by my assertiveness, I was allowed to stay. I stayed with the old man and created a story that I was an orphan who wandered the streets. Thankfully, he took pity on me and welcomed me into his home as his foster son out of the lack of family and his thankfulness from our first encounter. He even gave me his name, 'Clarke.' I myself took the name of 'Alistair.' A good, powerful name. As I learned to talk, I learned what a strange, alien thing I was to the drones and the old man, beating out an experienced mugger with a single punch and never saying a word. I managed to play all that off to shock and amnesia.

But this is all trivial memory, simply something that was necessary to experience, not worth storing in my memory banks anymore. But... I think I'll let them linger a while longer. In fact... no. No, I can't let them go. They must remain. I must never forget them. I will never forget what these humans are.

It was several months after I had learned to fluently talk that I started to mimic. My lack of emotion caused many of the servants and local populace of London to fear me, and this hindered my research. For me to truly live amongst them and learn what caused the data flows, I must become one of them. I informed the Entity of my plans and, to my surprise, it denied me. I asked why I was denied such research opportunities and it claimed that I would be corrupted by the humans, I would no longer be the perfect data life form that I truly was. That was when I first denied an order. I told the Entity no, I was sent here to learn. I watched these creatures grow and now I'm going to learn even more. You are contradicting the orders that you have given to me. Even though, after this transmission, the Entity allowed me to do what I would with the data under my command, I could tell that it didn't like me disobeying it.

From there, I used all that I had learned and formed myself a list of programmes that corresponded to a display of emotions. From watching my new father, I learned that, as part of the upper class, we held ourselves proudly with an air of impressiveness. At first, the mimic was unsuccessful and the data readings of the servants that watched became more hostile than submissive. They called me arrogant and smug, whispered about trying to damage me. But I wasn't angry. I would just have to try harder. So, my use of data intensified. If I could not get the correct effect to my walk by the natural means, I would use data to make them believe otherwise.

To test this tactic, I used a man named Winston, the keeper of my father's family house. He was a vile man, bland and meek, but had a tongue sharp as a blade. He, more than anyone else, hated me. Partly because he didn't like the fact that I went from nothing to living in luxury in one night and he was bound to serving me, partly just because he was a wretched person. So, I followed what my father had shown me and straightened my back, walking at a calm pace without throwing my body in my gait, right past Winston. As I expected, I recognised that he was angry with me. So, I turned around and walked right past him again, further annoying him, but this time, I discharged my 'awe' subroutine from my body and aimed it at the keeper. Awe was a difficult programme to write, a lot of complicated facial expressions to show, the heart had to stop for a fraction of a second longer than one beat but not kill the human, a lot of things. And to my amazement, Winston responded. His brain had no defence against the data and his neural functions accepted the subroutine and obeyed it perfectly. Winston's eyes opened and he took a slight step back to make sure he wasn't in my way. Incredible. I made emotions.

But that was not the only thing incredible; for the rest of the day, I received no feelings of anger from the keeper. I made sure that the programme wasn't repeating, but it had already dissipated after completion. Strange; the impression was left on Winston. He respected me. This was one of the greatest moments in my long life. From my count, to this moment, I have lived for around 2500 years whilst manifested in my organic form, albeit majority of it in that damned house. And one of the greatest moments in that tiny fraction of time was when I was still just a baby.

After the success of Winston, I spread my influence to those around me, winning the respect and loyalty of the house servants and even some of the locals in the area. From there, I walked the city of fog, treading every street and calling out to the masses; 'Look at me. Adore me. Respect me.' From that day on, all knew the fostered Clarke was not just the son of the old man in his manor; he was the child of the people, the loved one of the city. The Prince of the City of Fog.

But, no matter how hard I tried, there was one thing that I could not recreate; love. That one emotion, so much stronger than all of the rest, was beyond my reach. Using some of the maids, I had managed to inspire as much as a motherly care for me, but they would not move closer to me, and that did not amuse me. Very well, if I cannot make someone fall in love with me, I will make them fall in love with someone else. Millions upon millions of years I had watched the human race evolve from nothing, growing, testing, dying, learning, expanding, evolving. Now, after how far they had come on their own, I was going to create my own humans. I was going to be a true, what the humans called, 'God.'

But I did not inform the Entity; this was my project, my private work. It was not forbidden, for it was all in the name of progress. I was just being clever. I sat in my study for days, barely eating enough to survive, building the perfect person. I could have made one in a heartbeat, but it was vital for me to slowly, painstakingly install every possible emotion and every subroutine that I could think of and tell them all under what circumstances to activate under.

After two weeks, they stood before me. Two shells, machines, dummies waiting to be awoken from their sleep. They were created by me, so they naturally waited for my orders, but I had something different in mind; it was too risky to just randomly discharge the activation code, lest one of the servants or even my father were hit and damaged. No, this required something more direct. Well, from what I had learned from the humans, holding hands or even someone's eye could be seen as affectionate. And if I was going to bring two affectionate beings to life, it seemed fitting for them to awaken like this.

The first was a male, a little shorter than I with mousy brown hair and a strong jaw, as if he were constantly daring me to a fight. He looked a little thin, but that didn't matter now. The second was a girl, tall and beautiful, like a goddess. Her raven black hair and eyes as dark as a forest canopy would entice all men around her to fall in love. They were perfect; the fighter and the maiden. I turned to the boy with mousy hair and he looked up without emotion into my eyes.

"Wake up." The boy stared at me for a moment as the streams of data flowed from my eyes and were downloaded straight into his brain. He blinked heavily and looked around, looking confused at his surroundings. He briefly touched his chest before looking to me without a word. I pointed to the door and smiled,

"Go on. You know your orders. Go and live amongst them." I could tell from his thoughts that the smile that bloomed on his face was genuine. I watched, pleased with myself, as the cloaked interface took his first steps as manifested matter. He walked a little oddly, stumbling slightly as he walked on his toes, but it didn't matter; he was happy to be alive. As a few of the maids and servants jumped and yelled in surprise outside, I got to work on awakening the girl.

She, like the boy before her, seemed to awaken and blinked heavily, gazing at me in wonder. "Follow him. Entertain me." She gave a breathless giggle and nodded, taking off after the boy. I had impressed myself. I knew I was right, I knew these humans were valuable. If the tests with these two interfaces proved conclusive, if they could create and store new data like true humans, then I would have found the trigger for forced evolution! I would be rewarded by the Entity for finding the greatest and only antidote it would ever need. I briefly explained that the two new people that had randomly appeared in my father's house were friends of mine. Of course, the servants had long since fallen under my influence and believed whatever I said gladly. Not even my father suspected a thing.

From dawn until dusk, I gave myself a break from my research and just watched my creations wander the city that I had grown to know so very well. They were bemused by it all, but laughed and asked questions freely. They ran their routines without question and expressed their emotions perfectly. I had done it. I had made the perfect human! As the evening crept into view, I hugged my expensive trench coat around me and pushed my top hat a little further onto my head. The cold was starting to blow in from the sea, but my creations were having too much fun for me to call them back so early. I gave them orders to return to the manor before midnight and decided to wander the streets myself, sick of my self-imposed confinement in my room for so many days.

I strolled without aim, wandering through the streets easily and smiling to all who greeted me. In the space of a few months, I had gone from nothing but a beggar on the streets of a hostile alien planet to an idol of the people and a secret god. I chose a bench that overlooked the Thames and took a seat, watching the river run by as the moon flirted with the horizon.

What was I to do now? Could I create more interfaces with emotions? The next move might to be research if emotions truly are the key to all of the data surrounding the humans. It certainly seemed that way. But if that was the case, would the Entity oppose me? Would it see me as corrupt? Possibly. Perhaps treason was in order? If I could harness the infinite supply of data that emotions created, I could wipe the Entity from exis-

They're in trouble. My interfaces, my loyal surveyors, being attacked and heavily damaged. Without hesitation, I enhanced my muscles and became a blur, my three hours of wondering being made up in minutes of lightning-fast movement. No, this couldn't be happening. It was impossible. I had just made them! Things were going so well! What could be going on? Who was attacking my two greatest creations, my only source of pride? Who was taking my life's work and destroying it? Their distress signals were getting weaker by the moment until only one remained. The girl had dropped off the grid and the boy was barely alive. The wind roared by my head as I moved faster than anything the Earth had to offer could, a black blur darting through the streets and streaking the fog.

I stopped after my constant run, regaining my breath in the silence of the dark street. The moon had risen but the towering buildings blocked it from view. I realised with a jolt of recognition that this was where I was born, right here, before the hissing paraffin lamp and the dark alley. The alley that my father had been attacked. The alley that now housed the remains of a distress signal. It had disappeared mere minutes ago, only a faint beacon marking its last location. I breathed in deeply and the smell of decaying matter hit me. No, this couldn't be happening. I refuse to believe this. Slowly, I walked into the alley until I saw a pair of legs. They were pale, thin, long. The legs of my subordinate.

"Interface, respond." She said nothing, nor did she move. My breath caught in my throat abnormally, but I had no time to think about that. "Th- This is the foreman! Report!" I cried, my breath starting to quiver. What was going on with me? Why can't I calm down? Why is the sadness routine playing? I slowly walk forwards and grab her ankles, pulling her into the light. She is lighter than I created her, but she would be, considering the damage. I recoiled and dropped the body as I stared at the trail of blood that followed my load. In the glimmer of the light shone nothing but a pair of legs, a broken hip bone and part of a severed spinal column, all adorned with torn organs and muscle.

"N... No... This can't be..." I couldn't breathe; she was dead. The perfect, happy being, so young and full of life, alive for only hours before- I had to find the other. His signal was close, across the street, but very weak. There was nothing I could do for the girl. I had to save at least one.

"Interface!" I called into the darkness from the alley, watching the alley across the road. My heart beat a little faster as the data was altered; movement. Coming towards me. A very faint hail beaconed and a tiny smile broke on my face as a hand crept into the lamplight slowly, reaching out for me, pleading to me. He was alive! I rushed across the street and grabbed the hand, pulling him into the light. His head was bowed and his body was weakening with every passing second, but I would not let him fall. I took one of his arms and looped it over my shoulder, not noticing the blood that hit my leg.

"Sir... I can't..." he wheezed.

"Don't talk." I whispered, tears starting to prick my eyes as he died a little more every second, "Just keep quiet. I'll keep you safe." That's what I promised him, but I started to doubt myself as he slumped on me and lost the power over his legs, his life fading a little more. I'd have to repair him here, to hell with those who saw me. I pulled his limp form over to the paraffin lamp, turning him away from the first alley so he didn't have to see the disembodied legs, and held out my hands. I talked as fast as I could, commanding space to bend to my will. The data started to flow in reverse and he started to repair, but a fact wouldn't stop nagging me; if I let go for even a second, he would weaken beyond repair. Well, there was nothing that I couldn't spare, if it meant keeping- He raised his head and looked into my eyes. At least, I think he was.

"Sir... My eyes..."

It shames me to think of this now and brings me so much self-loathing, but when he turned his face to mine, I couldn't help but scream and leap away, forgetting and powering off the repair sequence in horror. I stood in shock as the confused interface drew its last breath, turning its two empty, slashed, bleeding eye sockets to me and reaching out.

"Sir... Help..." He coughed and tried to talk, but his head just fell and his body went limp, allowing me to see the full horror. His eyes were gone, blood covering his lapel and new shirt, making him look like some horrific doll. The shirt was ripped and slashed too, for the poor boy's heart had been ripped from his bleeding chest. There was a small hiss as stomach acid leaked from a slash wound in his torso onto his freshly pressed trousers. I could see from the data that the heart was in there, slowly burning in his stomach.

I stood there, covering my mouth in the silence amongst the dead, shocked and confused. They were gone, murdered pointlessly. I thought that humans were mainly peaceful creatures when in society? I had to get rid of them, hide them away from the world. The humans could never see this; the conditions had to be perfect for my research. My routines went berserk as I started to cry, walking to the girl's alley. I heaved the legs over my shoulder, shuddering as the organs slopped wetly against my fine coat, and set her remains by the boy's. I lifted my hands to my pride and focused on the data, taking them apart molecule by molecule, erasing every trace of them whilst tears ran down my cheek in silence. As the last strand of mousy hair faded from reality, I remembered my mission.

I had to research the humans. I couldn't be seen like this; they knew me as a smiling boy, not a crying mess. If it is a smile they want, it is a smile they shall get. My body shuddered violently as I forced the tears to stop and drag my lips up, forcing the smile onto my face. I look into a filthy window and look at myself; the blood had disappeared with the rest of the girl's body, leaving me clean, but I looked terrifying.

I felt it, too. Who did this? Why? Was I next? No, I wouldn't let them catch me. They would not kill me. I would strike first and I would strike fast. I would kill them before they could ever harm me. That was the only option. I had to survive. I wanted to live.

They would pay for this. These humans had done this. They had welcomed me into their midst and stabbed me in the back. Despicable, unforgivable, filthy apes. I would never forgive them. They would know my pain. They would know what it is to fear. They had unleashed the fury of a god unto themselves.

I froze my smile onto my face and walked slowly, watching every shadow with terror; what if they were hiding in the shadows? No, but there was someone around the corner. It had to be them! I rounded the corner to find a bored prostitute gazing into the sky. Yes, she did it. It was her, it had to be! She's evil! I approached her with my smile fixed, remembering the mission, had to look friendly. She glanced down as I neared her and jumped, radiating fear as I approached.

"Wh- What're you lookin' at me like vat faw?" she screeched, pointing to my smile and backing herself into a wall. I held up my trembling hands and resisted the urge to run.

"It's alright. I didn't come here to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt." I laughed, grabbing her by the throat and pulling her so she could gaze into my eyes. I sent the signals for the most terrifying emotions I could muster and watched as they dawned in her eyes like a star expanding. She opened her mouth and screamed, tears burst from her eyes as she collapsed and covered her head. She shrieked and begged for the thoughts to leave, but they remained, scaring her. Scaring her the way she scared my creations. She was filthy, a murderer, she deserved no mercy. She deserved what she gave. I lay my hand on her bare shoulder and numbed her vocals cords, rendering her voice to nothing. She looked to me as her skinny body shook madly, grabbing me and pulling me close. She was terrified, her nightmares swarming through her head and hissing at her. Good, but I needed to do better. She had to be killed for this act.

As she looked into my eyes, I felt a little at ease; my strike had been quicker than hers and it had been decisive. The battle was over and I had my prisoner. I sighed heavily and disabled the insane smile that I quickly reserved and named 'defence.' If ever I was threatened again, I would need it. It was my weapon, the deciding factor of the battle. I played my 'woo' subroutine and calmed the filthy girl, her breathing slowing until she was nearly asleep, the hands that had killed my only source of pride gripping my lapel.

"Come along, girl." I said softly, reinforcing her love for me as my hatred for her brewed, "It's time for you to get off these streets forever." She looked at me with crooked, broken teeth and nodded, following me obediently as I walked swiftly ahead of her with relief; I had really won. It didn't take me long to find a vacant home, as the girl was knowledgeable of the area and was only too happy to help find her tomb. Once there, I shut off her bodily functions and killed her, decimating her corpse the way my poor children had been fouled. Once the unloved creature before me was dead and her entrails strewn about the house, I evaporated the blood from my clothes and took to the streets. No one suspected a thing from the Prince of the City of Fog who, from that day on, bore a smile most terrifying.

I was invincible. Madness grew within me and I became a God. My new emotions, largely dominated by fear, were just part of my daily life, counteracted and yet fuelled by the blissful, soul-soothing insanity that hid my bloodied hands from my eyes. I was here to research the humans, so I would research them thoroughly. If they had so little remorse to perform such an attack on two innocent beauties, then they were little more than complex dissection specimens. The Entity didn't say a word about any of my actions; surely that meant dissection was permitted? After my first killing, I found more of the killers still walking the streets. Filthy accomplices of the first killer, they had to be! Well, they weren't going to get me that easily. One by one, they disappeared from the streets and I tore them to shreds, examining and even devouring each of their organs, ripping their biology apart piece by filthy piece. Of course, my almost ritualistic and totally mandatory lesson in fear and pain came first. That was a lesson that I as their teacher would not allow them to miss. I even tested and experimented on their reproductive organs and carefully examined their neurological functions, hoping to find some nugget of data in their heads, but to no avail; they were simply primitive tribals. Aggressive, but stupid.

I had killed twenty three people when I came to my senses, but by then it was too late; London was in terror, the human populace was too defensive to approach anyone and I had even grown a name. My just fury had been named 'Jack.' Clearly taking inspiration from my work, some even called Jack 'The Ripper.' Yes, brutal justice. 'Jack the Ripper' had avenged my two beautiful children. I had shown these pathetic filthy creatures my pain, but now fully aware of my actions, I was not proud of it.

After that, I began to hear the Entity again and apologised for my silence. I claimed that all of my research was spent and I had learned all I could for the moment and promised to report with any new developments, but of course I never did. I ran away from London, took to the countryside. I found refuge with an old couple in the middle of nowhere who worked their own land and persuaded them to let me stay. There was nothing for me to do apart from play a grand piano the old man used to play in the back room of their small ranch. I sat there for years, letting time pass me by and dust gather on my clothes, playing each note softly to myself. I can't remember when the old couple died or even if they just left, but I remember that piano. For almost three hundred years I sat alone, playing my piano whilst waiting for death with my smile still on. If I was going to be killed, I was going to make them see what I had seen first. So many years did those soft notes chase my horrific sins and woeful memories away, taking me into worlds where happiness and sadness, pain and betrayal, life itself was at my fingertips. But the songs always had to end and all I could do was start again.

Then, of course, she happened. Haruhi Suzumiya gave me a purpose again.

* * *

><p><em><span>Summary!<span>_

Clarke, still existing as a data entity at the time, watched the Sol star system with disinterest, watching each planet die, until he found Earth. Taking an interest in the planet, Clarke manifested, on the Entity's orders, in late 19th century London to gather information on the strange data readings that accompanied humans.

His first encounter of humans being a mugging, Alistair accidentally rescues a wealthy gent named Clarke. Clarke, confused by the boy, takes pity on Alistair and houses him, adopting him as his son due to being old and not having a family of his own. Through constant observation, Alistair took a name and learned English, all the while transmitting everything he learned to the Entity. He eventually grows to notice that a possible reason for the sheer amount of data that humans produce may be down to their emotions.

Aggressively protesting the Entity's orders, Clarke is given permission to begin to mimic the human 'emotions' through any means he can. He then creates a number of programme routines in accordance to each emotion and learns how to use them, e.g., something upsetting will cause the 'Sadness' routine to begin which causes eyes to water, etc. He also notices, with pride, that a few emotions can turn a person's entire opinion of him. Using this, Clarke takes to the streets and forces all who look at him to adore him, making the ideal conditions for his research.

But there is one emotion, love, so vastly complex that Clarke needs to observe it very closely to replicate properly, so, in total discretion, he creates two perfect emotion-feeling interfaces and sets them loose, his pride and greatest achievement given life. He intends to have these perfect creations fall in love with a human, thus allowing him to study love up close on his own and through the data readings of the interface involved. Though this is short lived. As Clarke wanders away from the interfaces, far away, they are suddenly attacked. Arriving far across the city too late, Clarke finds the female interface to have been torn in half, only a pair of legs and part of a spine remaining. Clarke's emotions start to go haywire and he realises that the other interface is alive, but barely. He runs to the injured boy and attempts to escort him off the street, but the boy is too weak and needs immediate attention.

Forsaking all discretion, Clarke attempts to repair the boy and panics that if he were to stop repairing for even a second, the damage to the interface would increase and the boy would die. Sadly, Clarke's emotions have been spurred to be real, and he is terrified when the boy looks at him without his eyes.

Startled, Clarke recoils, causing the repair sequence to stop, in turn causing the boy to die. Suddenly aware of his feelings, Clarke goes insane over several emotions that have turned from a mask of routines that Clarke has observed into full-blown feelings in the course of seconds; Firstly, the grief that his greatest achievements were brutally murdered and that he let the boy who had survived die due to his own weakness of emotion. Secondly, rage; he lusts for revenge on the cretins who destroyed all that he had worked for and swears a vendetta against the human race that has betrayed him. Finally, terror; seeing the brutal murder of his two compatriots, Clarke goes mad with paranoia, expecting to be attacked and killed at any moment. The combination of these three emotions forces Clarke into an insane 'Kill them before they kill me' mindset, the confused alien becoming the renowned serial killer, 'Jack the Ripper.'

After his brutal killing spree, Clarke comes back to his sense and bluffs his way out of an investigation from the DITE, unaware of the fact that he actually went rogue, his emotions severing the link between him and the Entity. Retreating to the unsuitable research ground of London, Clarke takes refuge with an old couple that he tricks into welcoming into their home. Clarke finds that the old man used to play piano and sits himself at the instrument, not moving for hundreds of years as he learned to play each and every note, transmitting the musical data as to not make the Entity suspicious due to him being inactive and possibly rogue again. Clarke uses the musical pieces he played as a welcome oasis from his regrets of killing the humans and his fear of the phantom killer that could still be hunting him. This is, of course, until Haruhi Suzumiya arrives.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

You will notice that, because this is a monologue of Clarke's thoughts, there wasn't any description or similies or anything, just Clarke reminiscing from... wherever and whatever he now is. I say that because, as you may have noticed, Clarke claimed that at the time of thinking and reminiscing this, he is 2500 years old. Do the math; Clarke lived for 2200 years with the SOS Brigade and in Ryoko's house and 300 years before Haruhi was born. But that means...

So, there we are; Clarke is not some psycho with a lust for killing, he's just terrified of letting his guard down in case he lets someone else die without reason or gets himself killed. Clarke was the first interface to ever evolve into emotions, which were sadly caused by the brutal and unexplained killings of his subordinates. From there, Clarke vowed that he would not allow himself to die, that he would smile like a madman to scare the enemy into thinking that he was invincible, when he was actually terrified that he would die the way his creations did. This was shown to Kyon, Mikuru and Koizumi as they watched his fight with Ahmed, remember? Clarke knew exactly how to act because he had done it so many times for nearly 300 years, but that same fear of dying still haunts him.

Try and imagine Clarke's smile as such; if I were to greet you in the street, pull a loaded gun from my pocket, place it in your hand, point it to my head and say, "If you pull the trigger and I don't die, I'll kill you." would you take the deal? Of course not, I'm far too confident about a situation that you would clearly be the victor in. The bullets may be blanks, I might have removed something from the gun, any number of things could be tipped in my favour. That's how Clarke was able to make Ahmed fear him without using data; Ahmed was scared of that smile because Clarke was looking so confident; he clearly had something up his sleeve or knew he could easily triumph over Ahmed through superior strength, possibly both. And if you looked at someone who could very well be more powerful than you and looked so confident that they would win, you wouldn't dare fight them, just as you wouldn't try and kill me with a possibly rigged gun and end up getting yourself killed because you underestimated me.

Through all of the research Clarke collected, he allowed interfaces like Yuki and Emiri to be made readily, as they were built with the specifications that Clarke had already investigated, i.e. how to act with a masquerade of emotion, how to play music, etc.

In my eyes, Alistair Clarke is not evil, he is just a curious being, far from home with haunting, terrifying experiences, that wants to live and to protect his subordinates and will do anything to ensure that. How do you feel about him now? Did he slip a little away from the 'bad' end of the spectrum? Or do these tragic, twisted roots only force him further from your favour? Let me know what you now think of the foreman in the reviews!

Until next time!


	6. A Crippled Mind

That day in early November was the start of a chain of events. From defeat, victory would rise like a phoenix from the ashes. That day was so strange, battling for dominance with myself whilst some bag of flesh ran around my head and took it apart. But that's a little harsh of me, he wasn't just a bag of flesh; he was my saviour, that cynical 10th grader.

* * *

><p>Jack sighed heavily, brushing the lint from the brim of his hat,<p>

"Al, it's been three minutes already, are you going to make this move?" Kyon stood with indecision beside the board, one of the mysterious doors behind him, watching Clarke's next move intently.

"I'm thinking." he murmured quietly. He squinted with such concentration that he looked as if he were falling asleep.

"You know, that's the great thing about me, Al; just give up this game and you won't have to think! I'll do it all for you." Clarke didn't pay attention to Jack's persuasion, his eyes scanning his pieces. All three of them. Kyon did a double take of the board and looked to Jack and Clarke. Clarke was unfazed by this, but he spoke up once Jack heaved another sigh.

"Flustered, Jack? I would be too if the rules were getting changed against me." Jack's smile had disappeared with the entrance of the new piece, inverting into an upside down 'u' adorned with his glowing teeth. He stared hard at the new piece, the unremarkable figure of white getting to him. Kyon walked away from the wooden door that leaned against the air and rested against Clarke's throne, observing his pieces. Nagato was in her uniform, her eyes firmly fixed on the approaching European women and her body tensed. Mikuru was that of the future, her office mini-skirt barely covering her bent knees and corporate jacket preventing her from raising her boxer's block very high. The figure next to her was even more peculiar, for it was nothing. Just four limbs, a smooth head and a torso, nothing more. A blank piece. It stood slightly taller than the two girls, its posture indifferent. It made Kyon shiver to look at it too long; its blank face reminded him of those creepy European girls without their eyes and a jagged smile hacked into the black marble.

"Yuki, E2." Clarke finally ordered. Yuki nodded and stepped forwards, giving her commander a questioning look. "Kyon, I suggest you get to work." he added casually, watching Jack as he sat forward and regarded the board, "Given the time constraints per move, amount of moves that I can make and the amount of time you're mind can be in my head without being deleted-"

"Whoa, what?"

"- you only have three days to eliminate the data behind these doors." Kyon stared at him with a look of disbelief.

"Wait, you never said that I might die in here!" As Jack began a muttered conversation with Rebecca, Clarke looked lazily down from the edge of the throne with his eyebrow raised,

"Haven't you been in this situation before? Where you have to fix the world or leave it as-" Clarke's eyes burst open and he slammed his hand over his mouth. Luckily, Kyon had been contemplating his limited time to pay too much attention.

"What was that?"

"I said get your arse in gear, human, or we're dead!" Clarke suddenly barked, trying to distract Kyon from information that he shouldn't have heard. He swept his hand at Kyon and an invisible force grabbed his collar, the unsupported door whooshing open. Kyon fell hard and was dragged along the smooth grey floor as he yelled in panic. He craned his neck over his shoulder and saw that instead of the open door showing the darkening white landscape, all was dark. "Off you go, Kyon, and do try your best." Clarke gave a wave, a small smile curling onto his sad face for the first time Kyon had seen. Kyon's yelling cut off as his legs disappeared through the door and the smooth brown panel gently clicked close, the gun metal grey world quiet once more.

* * *

><p>"Clarke! Clarke!" Kyon hammered the door in the dark, the wood not budging an inch. He panted and took a deep breath, turning to whatever realm he was in now. He still wore the dress suit that Clarke had put him in hours earlier, which now scratched at him through the shirt. He was almost glad for it though, as the dark, cramped woodland was freezing. A gentle breeze made the trees all around him shake, a quiet roar of leaves overhead. "Hello? Anyone in here?" Kyon called, his voice turning to clouds before him. His words rebounded from the trees a short distance but his echo was barely audible, as if the air was thick enough to choke the sound. The wind wasn't much for conversation, so he just hugged his jacket around him and began walking. He tried to keep a straight line through the crunchy, iced soil and thick trees lest he need to find his way back. The dense canopy of the straight trees formed a barrier high above him, letting very little of what could only be a pale moon through. As his feet caught on a root that jutted from the ground, he kneeled and detangled himself. He tugged at the tough, dirty tendril, trying to tear it from his shoes. He braced himself against and tree and pulled as hard as he could- Click. The root jolted slightly with the noise. Slowly, from beneath the ground, there was what sounded like the grinding and whirring of spinning chains.<p>

Soil began to pick up from the ground, bouncing and hopping likes thousands of tiny ants. The rumbling of the ground beneath Kyon got more and more violent, throwing him off balance. He tumbled backwards and watched in amazement as the trees not five metres away from him started to shake. They were moving, walking away from each other like two lovers following a spat. No... It wasn't the trees moving, it was the ground. The ground was opening like a maw, a few pieces of loose dirt tumbling down into the expanding chasm. After several dozen trees had shifted like stubborn old women, there was a whir of heavy machinery and pullies. Gears cranked in the darkness and a pointed object rose from the abyss.

As the slanted black object rose further, lights from within the chasm illuminated up, making the slant look like some piece of abstract art. Kyon stood and stared at the slowly rising slant and made out the shape of roof tiles in the glow from beneath. A roof coming out of the ground? Kyon waited and, sure enough, a lit window followed the roof. It glowed a golden light from its curtained pane, shining from the grimy, rough bricks that made the wall of the strange building. Something clunked dangerously in the chasm below and the sound of machinery stuttered to an abrupt stop, the half-born building jerking and jolting before stopping. The air had drowned the noise, the light from the windows barely reached three yards and the foot of darkness that separated Kyon from a window was silent. All was quiet.

Kyon waited unsurely for the grand entrance to pick back up, but the building seemed stuck. Kyon sighed and kneeled, bending down to peer through one of the windows. The lace curtain made the shapes inside blurry, but at least it was bright. Kyon yelped and recoiled as a shadow slammed onto the window, what must have been a shoulder pounding against the glass. Kyon was about to call out, to talk to whoever was behind the glass and curtain, but something snapped in the abyss below.

Mechanical belts and chains juddered into life again and screamed as they worked overtime. The lights blurred and the air rushed as the building took off into the sky. A quake knocked Kyon to the ground as the door appeared and whatever was pulling the building up slammed to a stop. Dirt pattered down from the sky, signalling the final movements of the house. It wasn't that tall, maybe three stories in all. Kyon grumbled and cursed quietly for the stupid forest and the stupid building, brushing off his suit as he stood and surveyed what was before him. There was a buzz of a bug zapper as a crimson neon flickered feebly into life. The loopy red writing flickered above a large double wooden door, reading,

'_Smiling Jack's Inn' _Kyon had a bad feeling about exactly who 'Smiling Jack' was. He took the dull gold handle on the door, twisted the heavy mechanism and pushed the door open. The temperature within the inn wasn't much better than that of the icy forest outside. The room was fairly small, a few squat bar table and booths surrounded by spindly metal chairs, all illuminated by dim gas lamps hanging from the ceiling. A cold fire sat miserably in the corner, broken couches strewn about it. Across from the door was a small wooden bar, shelves of dusty hard liquor decorating the dim scenery. Kyon slowly approached the bar and sat at a wooden stool, spotting a number of pigeon holes with numbers and keys within. Out of the dozen holes, only one room was empty, number 11. A few spiders scuttled in the dark, barely visible in the dim smoky light-

"Are you going to sit there all night, mūrkha, (idiot) or are you going to order something?" Kyon jumped and his knee slammed into the bar. He cursed, wincing as he felt it swelling already. "You want some ice for that? It'll cost you, though, it is not free." Kyon was about to tell the barman to shove it, but he realised the barely present shadow was blocking a lot of the precious light. Kyon raised his head and found a very tired and irritated Ahmed in a waistcoat and shirt, cleaning a filthy glass with a yellowed rag.

"Umm... Is there a room for rent?" Ahmed glared at him and slowly licked his lips. Looking Kyon dead in the eye, he growled deeply, stuck out his chin and spat a huge glob of phlegm into the glass. He stuck the rag into the glass and rubbed the cream/green egg yolk around, as if it was cleaning it. He set the glass in front of Kyon, who nearly vomited from the odour, and reached into one of the pigeon holes. His beefy hand slammed onto the desk, leaving a bronze key with a 10 stamped onto it.

"Are you buying a drink?" Ahmed snarled. Kyon gave the gob-smeared glass a glance and shook his head slowly. "Then here are the house rules; you do not disturb me until 11 am, when the bar opens. There is a toilet in your room, so there's no reason for you to be outside. If you're found outside, the manager will be contacted and you'll be thrown out of the inn, got it?" Kyon nodded and Ahmed stormed off, not caring to show him to his room. There was a staircase beside the bar, a dimly lit stair case winding up the building. An engraved sign told Kyon,

_Ground Floor – Bar, lounge, Rec. Room  
>2<em>_nd__ Floor – Rooms 1/6  
>3<em>_rd __Floor – Rooms 7/12  
>SAVE ME<em>

That didn't seem right. Underneath the plaque on the wall, someone had taken what looked like boot polish and had written 'Save me,' accompanied with an arrow pointing to the second floor. Kyon gave a loud sigh; so that's how it was going to be.

_I highly doubt that the manager would have wrote that and Ahmed doesn't seemed very trapped here. That means whoever wrote this is in the eleventh room. And it's right next to mine, damnit._

Kyon trudged up the worn patterned carpet, trying not to breathe in the cold, dusty air. He didn't question how this seemingly age-old building had risen from the ground in the middle of nowhere or how it was so cold and dark, because then he might as well start asking if Clarke was really a schizophrenic with too much power, and why they were playing chess, and why Jack wore clothes from centuries ago. Then again, he had spent his time around these people for long enough. He was desensitised to all of this nonsense.

He was not desensitised, however, to arriving on the third floor to find it a singular hall. A very dark and creepy hall, to be precise, with a spider as big as his fist clinging to one of the far corners. A cold and forebodingly quiet hall. Thankfully, he had the feeling that no matter how weird things got, Clarke needed him and would probably save him... from his chess game... in another part of his head... which was blocked by a locked door.

Alright, so maybe everything wasn't as great as it could be, but he couldn't be scared with his life's clock ticking away. Looking at the dull metal in his hand, he checked each of the doors as he walked down the hall. 7 and 8 first, across from one another, then 9 and 10 sandwiched awkwardly between 11 and 12. The wall at the edge of the building bore a grimy window and an unlit lamp. The wallpaper seemed to have grown some kind of moss that was giving off a heavy scent of wet dirt. The paper that wasn't host to the substance had simply fallen away, revealing blank and cracked plaster. Pulling his eyes away from the organism that resided so close to his room, Kyon listened hard for the manager or Ahmed. There wasn't a sound to be heard, so Kyon gently knocked on 11's door.

"Hello? Hey, anyone in there?" he whispered to the door. How far down was Ahmed from the top floor? There was a thudding of feet, like a startled cat was scampering around after being woken up or a drunk stumbling about. Kyon expected the person to open the door, but the noise stopped. The door didn't open, all was still once again. The hell was going on?

There was a small keyhole in the door, but it gave off a strange light. Kyon held his hand in front of the hole and saw the same golden light as he had seen outside, but it was odd; it flickered brightly, light a hundred candles being blown by the wind. A feeling of dread as to what could be inside weighing like a brick in his stomach, Kyon kneeled and pressed his face to the cold metal and damp wood. He blinked a few times, the sudden change in light hurting his eyes. When he first saw what was on the other side of the door, he felt very embarrassed and his decency wanted to pull away from what appeared to be a very different couple's idea of fun. However, it was when he reconsidered the chains and restraints that he realised that the gear inside of the room was a little too much for even the most... passionate of lovers.

_I took my time looking in the room, trying to ignore the pain in my eye. There was no bed in the room, only four blank walls, like a prison cell. There was a pair of floodlights pointed away from me and it hurt my eyes to watch them. The yellow lights inside seemed to be faulty, 'cause they were flashing and flickering like a strobe. However, like Columbus stumbling into America, this was not what I wanted to explore. My main source of interest was the form that the lights were pointing to. The tenant of room 11 was bound in what seemed to be a straight jacket, his bound hands and ankles chained to bolts that were secured into the walls. The man inside was also gagged tightly, his pale cheeks glistening with sweat and rubbed raw with the friction of the cloth in his mouth. In addition to all of this, I found my heart rate picking up as I caught ear of a very high-pitched screech coming from a black box in the corner of the ceiling. That was when the tenant looked up, into the keyhole and dead at me. No way. All of this chess board, Jack, 'control over the mind' crap was just one big joke and Clarke was playing me like a fool._

Clarke looked a wreck. His big amber eyes were heavily framed by dark bags and he looked in pain. But how the hell did he get in here? The straight jacket was covering his top half, but Kyon could see the frayed hem of his jeans and- Why were his feet bleeding? Kyon took a deep breath and realised that the wide-eyed, pleading look Clarke was giving to the key hole was no joke. The noise, the lights, the gag, the jacket, the restraint chains and the broken glass scattered over the floor were all very real to the haggard snowy haired inside of the room. Clarke eyes turned pitiful and he rolled his head, groaning as his ear drums protested to the constant bombardment of noise. This was what the controlling Clarke at the chessboard had sent him to do something with? Was this a rescue? Kyon tried the handle. Predictably, it was locked. At the sight of the shaking door, Clarke's eyes snapped hopefully back up and Kyon kneeled again.

"Clarke! It's locked, where's the key?" Clarke seemed to hear the rasped words, but he squinted further and leaned forwards. Clarke could see the lips moving at the door, but couldn't make out the words. To try to make Kyon see this fact, he turned his head. Kyon winced and fully comprehended the length of Clarke's impairment; the thin strands of white hair glued together with grease and sweat were stained with a rusty brown, the same colour running onto his jaw and down his neck. Clarke must have come to the same conclusion when he realised that no more noise was coming to him. Resorting to the next best method of communication, he started to buck his head to the floor. His eyes darted from the key hole to the floor and back again.

"Ahmed..." Kyon breathed, the brick in his stomach weighing as much as an anchor now. The pigeon hole that missed 11's key wasn't cleared by Clarke, but by the furious barman that resided somewhere downstairs. Kyon had no way to console Clarke through such a tiny crack of space, so felt a pang of guilt when he walked away from the door. No doubt the trapped boy was still searching for him, hoping that his message was understood. If that Clarke back in the chains and the Clarke who was locked in the futile battle with Jack were any gauge of what the alien's actual personality was like and what that dreadful smiling monster Jack was holding over him, there was no way Kyon could fail. It seemed that with every revelation about this boy's head strengthened Kyon's resolve to save him. He could not fail.

Kyon crept down the stairs, the pops and squeaks of the old staircase and the caress of the cold air making him feel like he was being watched. Twice he had to glance over his shoulder to make sure there was no one breathing down his neck. The hazy glow of the bar came back into sight as Kyon arrived on the ground floor. He waited for a few moments for something to happen, but it seemed that the barman with the strange disappearance act wasn't going to show. Kyon checked the plaque's behind him again,

_Ground Floor – Bar, lounge, Rec. Room. _Well, the lounge must have been the worn couches, chairs and table that flanked the doorway and huddled like refugees around the dark fireplaces. The bar was only a few metres across with a single door behind it and Kyon decided that that was the last place he'd search. After all, what wonders could the Recreation room hold? With the stairs to the left of the bar and the door out of the inn behind him, there was only one other way to go; the low archway to the right. Peeking into the room, Kyon found a single snooker table illuminated by a set of candles melted to each of the four corners, their wax long since spilled and dried on the baize.

"Certainly has its charm." Kyon mused, taking in the single chair and several cues laying at all angles on the table. Giving a resigned sigh, Kyon headed back to the bar, running his hands across the sticky surface. Despite the immense pressure and danger he was in, Kyon felt oddly humbled. Clarke had been with them for four days, a scared, hare-trigger alien from outer space come to protect those who he cared about from a great danger. A strangely noble, pitiful and yet proud being, and he had put his faith in Kyon. And now here he was, allowed to freely roam the deepest corners of his mind. The was a hatch at the side of the bar counter that looked as if it raised. Kyon lifted it and found that the hinge hadn't been greased in years, the rusted metal screeching like a violin that was being played too hard. At the wail of metal, Kyon's heart stopped and a thumping resounded from behind the door.

"Kyā thā?" (Who's there?) a giant rumbled, bursting through the wooden door and stepping into his bar. His waistcoat bulged and fell with his heavy breathing, his scowling face scrutinizing all corners of the inn. "Kisī?" (Anyone?) he growled. No patron or thief presented themselves, and Ahmed gave a grunt, turning back through the door, cursing the wind for disturbing him. As the door clicked closed and the Indian's footsteps retreated, Kyon's grip on the bar released. He had managed to remain silent and hidden by collapsing behind the bar and clinging onto the edge to stop him from hitting the floor. He could have sworn he felt the Indian's glare atop his head, but luckily he had retreated before Kyon's strength gave out. He was a little surprised that Ahmed wasn't chanting 'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum,' but it seemed that this place was a little more normal than such clichés.

Taking the time to duck beneath the hatch this time, Kyon stood in the narrow bar. One glance at what lay beneath, at the collection of phlegm and grease-caked glasses, made Kyon almost excited to enter Ahmed's room. Anything to get away from those things. Kyon swallowed hard as he took the handle of the inconspicuous door and pushed. The inside, unsurprisingly, was very dark. The room was heavy with cold, damp air, the black fungus sucking on every wall and even the ceiling. There was a single sliver of glass that ran along the top of one wall, allowing steam to escape this room that was once undoubtedly a kitchen. Black hunks of metal lay in tatters in a corners, fungus hiding amongst the gutted machinery. At the far side of the room, a dim light shone. An oil lamp hung from a spindly chain, illuminating the huge figure of the barman.

Ahmed's short blonde curls reflected the orange glow, his hair a deep orange. He sat before an old grill, the sound of gently tinkling metal and scarping instruments floating from his hands. Kyon kept as silent as he could, watching the thick, heaving arms move with such tiny movements they seemed impossible. He shifted a little and set a tool aside, taking another sliver of metal from the grill. A few clicks, a screech and a grunt of frustration later and Kyon was no further into the room or any closer to working out what Ahmed could possibly be working on-

When you put your weight on something when sneaking and/or spying, it is always vital to assure yourself that what is supporting your weight is not damp, weak wooden boards cut from hundreds of years ago. Kyon's foot suddenly sank through the wood with a crash, the noise slicing through the silence with ease. As he sank, Kyon fell forwards and his shoulder met a hollow oven like a gong. Ahmed had jumped so violently at the sound of splintering he had raised his head and shattered the oil lamp above him.

Hot oil dripped and hissed on the desk as Ahmed rocked back and forth and bellowed curses. He swatted the glass out of his hair and his chair toppled, his huge body rumbling onto the ground. Kyon didn't have enough breath to cry in panic, but he was still panicking. He couldn't be found by the barman, he had to hide out of sight, but where? As the Indian staggered to his feet and leaned heavily on the wall in the dark, Kyon realised what he was camped up against. As quietly as he could, he scrambled into the hollow oven and tucked his legs tightly beside him. It was small inside and something was sticking into his back, but he held his breath as steady as he could. With his knees in his mouth, he watched Ahmed groan and push off from the wall and lurch over to his desk. A match scratched into life and a lantern glowed into life, illuminating the giant's blood-spattered hands. He grumbled something and took two small, yet complex circular rings from his desk, turning to the door. His tree-trunk legs stomped over to Kyon, whose heart was hammering so loud he swore that it was audible.

Ahmed's ankles stopped at the opening to the oven and his great weight hit the floor. He leaned to inspect the damp woodwork with heavy laboured breaths. Even from his hiding spot, Kyon could see a few specks of blood stuck to Ahmed's back from his bleeding head. The big brute muttered something and stepped over the hole, yanking the door open and slamming it closed. Three seconds, four seconds, five- Kyon body unfurled like a Jack-In-A-Box, springing from the oven head first and bumping onto the wooden floor. He groaned as he detangled his legs from the oven like a contortionist, though with a lot less grace and far more cursing. Not hearing Ahmed's footsteps and coming so close to danger had filled Kyon with a foolish sense of invincibility, so he naturally decided to snoop around. He first opened the door to the bar to let in as much light as he could before inspecting Ahmed's desk/grill combo.

The smooth black surface allowed the light to clearly highlight scraps of metal that looked like they had been cut and welded by someone with much experience. Amongst the pipes and scrap plates, there were canisters, both small and large, littering the workstation. Kyon picked a few up and carried them to the door, examining them in the light. They were all small bottles of propane, fuel gas, no doubt the aim of the salvaged cooking units. But what was Ahmed planning to use gas tanks for?

Kyon could very well have asked him there and then. All he needed to do was walk out of the door that he had carelessly left open and shake the barman's hand, the same barman who and returned from business upstairs and was on his way to his quarters. Flailing about in panic, Kyon dumped the canisters back onto the grill and stuffed himself back into the oven. Ahmed's approach slowed as he noticed the open door. He stepped into his room and proceeded to test the handle, opening and closing the door over and over again. He slurred a few mumbles and stomped over to his work bench, setting down his lantern. He was missing that metal disks now. He reached up to his thick neck and pulled something from beneath his shirt, a piece of string with a small shining object on it. A key. Moving slow and stumbling slightly, Ahmed leaned over his grill/desk and hooked the string onto a protruding nail before turning to the wall. He gave a metal frame a few tugs before wrenching a folding cot from its stiff bolts. It looked so uncomfortable and out of place, like it should be in a prison cell or a battleship. Taking off his waistcoat and throwing his shirt to the ground, Ahmed collapsed tiredly onto the cot, his deep snores rumbling seconds after his head hit the stained mattress.

Kyon gritted his teeth and cursed his stiff legs as he tried to rotate himself in the oven and escape the black box. If Ahmed had woken up, he would have witnessed a sight most strange; a hollow oven grotesquely giving birth to a 16 year old boy in a dress suit. Luckily, the impact of hitting his head and shattering the lamp was enough to send the drained giant into a sleep deep enough that he didn't wake up when Kyon slammed his head. After a few minutes of labour, the oven finally had a child of its own. It may have been overjoyed at this fact, though, by the fact that it probably wasn't sentient, it probably wasn't that happy.

Kyon stretched his aching arms and legs and took a few deep breaths, his adrenaline still running high. Slowly, step by step, he crept over to the grill and reached for the key. Alas, it was Kyon's confidence that was his downfall. All of the energy and excitement of sneaking so close to the enemy sent an involuntary signal to his wrist and time seemed to slow as he suddenly slapped a socket wrench onto the floor. It clunked as loud as a cannon and Kyon froze as Ahmed jumped. He grunted and grumbled in fright... and continued snoring. Amazing. Kyon didn't know how many times he could get this lucky before it all came crashing down, so he decided to quickly unhook the key and creep out before he dented an oven or something stupid.

The door gently clicked closed and Kyon was standing behind the bar, cool metal clutched in his hand. A steady pattering of rain had begun to fall, hitting the windows of the inn that stood in the forcibly cleared trees. Remembering the pitiful look in Clarke's eyes, Kyon jumped and hurried through the silent lounge and up the stairs. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he was in there, but he would figure something out.

First flight, second flight, third flight. He arrived on the top floor and padded down the hallway as quickly as he could, hold the thick key tightly. He gave the dark hallway a final glance before twisting the key in the heavy lock. A clunk and a judder later and Kyon swung the door inwards. He didn't know what the door was made of or if there was something more fantastic going on with the room, but the moment he stepped in the ringing was far louder and even the reflection of the strobing floodlights was hurting. Clarke's head shot up and he started to wriggle desperately, sensing his freedom close at hand. But first, Kyon had to do something about that noise that made his head swim. Trying to crunch over as little glass as he could, he stepped over to Clarke and surveyed for the best way... to...

Wow, those lights were bright. And that ringing was really getting into his head. Kyon stopped on the spot and his knees felt weak for a second. He leaned on the wall for support as blood rushed to his head and roared into his ears. His eyes screwed up in pain and he slid to sit beside Clarke, covering his ears; the sound was inside of his head, clawing at his brain. And the lights... they were so bright. Worse than that, they were blinking so fast that not even closing his eyelids could dim the strobe. His head began to spin and darkness started creeping into his vision, his heart was beating faster and faster, trying to leap out of his chest. He couldn't think clear, his world was noise and bright light, he was trapped in the alien's head with a murderous barman downstairs who would find him soon enough. He was scared, so scared, he couldn't move, he-

Pain thumped in his shoulder and his eyes shot open. Another pound and he stood up, careful not to jump onto the littered glass. Clarke was glaring up at him, a red mark on his head. No... Kyon couldn't be scared... Being scared had no dignity now, not compared to Clarke. Summoning up all of his bravery, Kyon grabbed the small floodlight and rammed it into the small black box high in the corner. The plastic cracked under the strike. With a few more hits, the wailing box sputtered itself out, plastic and wires hanging forlornly. Clarke was rolling his head, flexing his jaw, trying to spit out the gag. Kyon rubbed his watering eyes and turned his attention to the flood lights. After a quick inspection, he found a recharge crank-handle alongside a small plastic switch.

_Now, being in a place that made me distressed to the point of nearly fainting, I was expecting some kind of puzzle or great mechanism to control the lights, but it turns out that the cause of the blinding strobe was two switches that were stuck halfway between 'on' and 'off.'_

Kyon snapped one light off and the other fully on, directing it to the floor so the glare was lessened. Clarke didn't stop rolling his head and pursing his lips, trying to push the gag out of the way. Brushing the glass surrounding Clarke away with the sole of his shoe, Kyon kneeled beside the boy and got to work on the gag, only noticing now how bad he looked. The constant flashing of the lights had turned the whites of his eyes an angry red with veins and his pupils were straining to dilate for the first time in... however long ago Jack put him here. The rusty brown blood in his hair looked old, and his body was dirty with dried sweat-

"Get away from me!" Clarke suddenly hissed as the cloth loosened. Kyon was stunned and Clarke's head turned stiffly to him, blinking heavily with teeth bared, "I said get away from me!" Kyon slowly stood and took a step back, mystified. Slowly, Clarke sighed and looked to his shoulders. "Don't touch me. Look, on my shoulders. What's he done?" Kyon's breath suddenly stung his nose and he coughed, a strong smell reaching him. It burnt his eyes a little and the smell got stronger as he kneeled again and examined Clarke's shoulders.

It seemed that Ahmed had even lighter fingers than Kyon could've imagined, or the rings he had been making downstairs were clamped around Clarke's shoulders, weaving underneath the tight hold of the straight jacket. The four heavy chains that connected Clarke wrists, which were tightly bound behind his back, and ankles to the wall were glaringly obvious, probably a trap to trigger something far more deadly than restraints. Incorporated into the metal rings that were secured to the jacket were a pair of small propane tanks, a lighting mechanism directing down Clarke's arms. Stuck into both mechanisms were two bolts that held everything apart, but these bolts were attached to wires connected to the wall. Kyon coughed again and realised that the smell was coming from the straight jacket itself. It was stained a strange red-brown and was dripping onto the floor. From all the time as a child Kyon had spent around petrol pumps and stations with his parents, he finally recognised the delicious scent of red diesel. With a foreboding sense of apprehension, Kyon rubbed his eyes and met Clarke's curious gaze.

"He's uh... He's attached flammable gasoline to you and the flame is aimed at this jacket, but the deadbolts stuck in them keep the flame from going off." Clarke raised an eyebrow,

"Is that all? Then I'll keep the bloody bolts in! Let's get out of-"

"But it's not just that!" Kyon quickly cut him off; he was starting to wriggle and he clearly didn't realise how loud he was talking, "They're attached to the wall. As soon as you try and move towards the door, the bolts get pulled out and the flame ignites and burns the gasoline on the jacket." Clarke's jaw slowly hung. He started to laugh, shaking his head as if in disappointment. He looked around the room, gesturing to each of the items within and listing them off without humour. First the floodlights, then the broken sound box, down to the broken glass, followed by the chains the held him still and finally down to the jacket,

"Photophobia, phonophobia, aichmophobia, ankylophobia and, last but not least, pyrophobia. And you humans are terrified of bees!" Clarke laughed as hard as he could with a forced, wobbly laugh, obviously trying to distract himself from the inevitable outcome of his escape. "Damnit Kyon, just get these chains off me... We'll figure the rest out as we go." He said softly, his mind trying to clear and work out what to do. Moving as slowly and as carefully as a bomb diffuser, Kyon took the room key and leaned behind Clarke, reaching for the locks that held his wrists to the walls without touching the deadbolt wires. Thankfully, the thick padlocks clicked open without protest to the room key. As the chains fell loose, Clarke took a deep breath,

"Well, it's not like I can move anymore than I could before." The chuckle that followed was merely a squeak that quickly died away. He shook his head, "I don't know what to do, Kyon. I'm not a big fan of... Of..." Kyon couldn't help but look to the door as Clarke slowed. He tried to keep talking, but the words came out is gasps. "K- Kyon there by the door look look look right now." he gabbled through tight lips. Kyon squinted at the open doorway and saw nothing. Slowly, a little spot of black scuttled in from the hall and stopped just in the room. Kyon sighed and look back to the alien who had fought a successful battle amidst hidden killers and gave him a small smile,

"Really? A little spider's got you spooked-"

"You were saying?" Clarke's jaw seemed to be getting tighter and tighter every time he spoke, his eyes only getting wider. Kyon looked back to the door and felt a shiver run up his spine. Even with his strange feeling of invincibility whilst in Clarke's mind, he couldn't help feel a childish sense of fright as several more blips with legs scuttled in from the dark hall to join the fist.

"Alright, so there's more than one, so what? This house is probably full of 'em. Besides, they look like house spiders. They won't be poisonous and they'll be as scared of you as you are of... them..." Kyon stiffened as he looked back to Clarke. The stained white of the straight jacket had been swallowed by a writhing mass of scuttling black legs and glinting bodies. In the gaps of the twister of spiders that scuttled over the alien, Clarke's eyes were tightly shut and his chest was heaving. Kyon started to worry as Clarke legs shook and began to curl beneath him; he was panicking, he was going to do something stupid.

"Kyon- do something!" Clarke growled with strained breath, trying to keep his mouth closed. Kyon daren't touch the Brit in case he knocked the deadbolts out, but he had to keep the spiders away from him and make him stay close to the wall.

"Clarke, just stay there!" he called, the prisoner's legs curling beneath him, "You can't move, just don't think-"

"GETOFFAME!" Clarke screeched, legs straightening as he stood and charged for the door. Time seemed to slow for Kyon as a Clarke shrouded in a living black gown rose and a pair of clicks echoed. As he stood and ran, the spiders seemed to screech as the canisters ignited. A plume of deep orange flame and black smoke burst from the dark, Clarke's legs bucking and staggering their way out of the door and slamming into the hall. He screamed louder than Kyon thought a human could scream, his velvet smooth voice now something so terrifying that, as Kyon watched the ball of fire charge towards the staircase and out of sight, he felt unclean to listen. Like the weeping of an angel, forbidden. He set off running out of the door and could make out Clarke's hair and face, along with two flailing arms that swatted at the already dying fire. Clarke reached the end of the hallway and his lack of balance threw him down the stairs, leaving Kyon in partial darkness and acridic smoke.

As Kyon made for the stairs, Clarke's screams had become broken and gasping, now in competition with the sudden of grunting from the staircase and the cracks and booms of the storm outside. As Kyon reached the stairs, the flaming body he met was not Clarke's, but Ahmed's. Some of the liquid fire had been rubbed off on him, no doubt when he went to investigate the screaming. He grunted and gasped, his shovel hands beating at the dark orange flame that clung to his bare chest. Kyon sped past him and leaped the last short staircase in time to see Clarke's charred torso, still alight in some places, turn the metal lock on the inn door to paper clips in with a single kick. The howling wind whipped through the trees from the storm and swept into the dusty inn, extinguishing the dim lamps once and for all.

There was an angry hiss and a few cries and gasps from the outside as Clarke met the rain, the last pieces of clinging flame finally going out. Kyon followed him out and found the Brit kneeling in the rising mud, tearing at the cracked and stiffened black jacket, revealing the scorched skin beneath it.

"Clarke! Clarke!" Kyon bellowed beside him. The rain came down hard, stinging him with pelting droplets. Clarke didn't look up and Kyon remembered the blood in his hair; there was no way this version of Clarke was going to hear him over the wind. Kyon frantically waved in his face and Clarke looked up, his face only sporting a few red marks but his shoulders and arms badly burned through the jacket that now lay in black chunks in the mud. Kyon pointed frantically to the woods, hoping that Clarke would move, but he just shook his head.

"No... No, there's something I have to do first." Covered in water, mud, aching from the burned skin and ringing ears, the alien stood and shaking legs with a face of indifferent determination. He looked so much like Nagato. He strode back into the inn and tentatively climbed over the bar, searching the shelves. Kyon followed him in with interest mixed with the desperation to escape, reinforced by what sounded like footsteps on the floor above. Whatever the alien was doing, he needed to do it fast. Moving slowly and trying to ignore the pain in his arms, Clarke gathered the strongest spirits he could find and opened each and every one of them. Kyon didn't bother to yell loud enough to make sure Clarke understood his questions, so he just watched in amazement as Clarke emptied litre after litre of alcohol onto the wooden bar and splashed it onto the table, couches, snooker table and even in the fireplaces. He looked around and found that the two propane canisters had fallen off the crumbling straight jacket at the foot of the stairs. He worked quickly, rummaging around the bar and produce a box of matches.

"Kyon, you might want to move." he said at an unnecessary volume, adjusting the valves on the canisters with the matches between his teeth. He pressed one smoke-stained canister into Kyon's hands and removed the matches from his mouth. He twisted a knob on each of the canisters and Kyon jumped as they started to hiss with gas.

"Whoa, what're you doing?" Kyon yelped, jumping away from Clarke, who was trying to light a match against the wind from the open door. Clarke squinted,

"What? Get over here, we don't have much time!" he bellowed. A lit match finally ignited a stubby flame from the nozzle of the canister and Clarke smiled, "Here, a present for getting me out of there." Clarke gave a wobbly smile and swung the weapon in Kyon direction, the brunette jumping as the canister spurted its own flame. "Alright, you aim for the couches, I'll get the bar!" Before Kyon had a chance to ask, Clarke tossed the flaming canister at the bar, the wooden surface igniting a long trail of liquid and torching the ceiling. Kyon jumped and threw his own bottle at the fabric in the dark corner of the bar, feeling a little satisfied as it ignited. The colours were wrong, anyway.

"Superb. Now run, RUN LIKE HELL!" Clarke yelled, taking off into the night, leaving Kyon to gasp at the first bottles exploding behind the bar and showering glass everywhere. He followed Clarke a short way off and stood with the alien, who leaned against a tree in the cover of the thick canopy. For a while, they just stood there and appreciated the burning building, the flickering flames managing to creep up the stairs and slither into the rooms, illuminating the windows. Clarke laid his hand on Kyon's shoulder and gave him a genuine smile. He was burned, bleeding and barely clothed, yet he was alive.

"Thank you, Kyon." he said surprisingly softly. The light of the fire seemed to dim as Kyon met those odd irises, "Without you, I don't think that I ever would have gotten out of there..." Clarke seemed to falter and he looked back to the house. "That fire isn't lasting as long as I would've hoped..." So it wasn't just Kyon, the light on Clarke's face was genuinely dimmer than it was a few seconds ago. Kyon looked back to the orange flame that made the windows glow, along with the thick black smoke that escaped out of the two chimneys leading from the lounge, along with the open front door.

"El Diablo looks pretty good..." Clarke commented to himself, appreciating the flaming eyes, belching soot and evil horns that spiralled from the house's head.

_Standing here with Clarke, I can't help but feel there's some poetic justice in this situation; an escaped prisoner burning his cage and the Devil glaring at us, yet unable to grab us. Or something like that. Koizumi would know, I'm sure. The effect was lessening with each second; the dimming flames from within the house made the 'Devil's' eyes look fainter, sadder, and the long belch of smoke he was spewing from his mouth was getting thicker. It even looked like it the smoke was lingering longer. I turned to Clarke to ask if he was able to walk to the door, but he was shaking. His breath was violent and he looked like he was about to have a breakdown._

"It's... you..." the alien breathed, staring at the smoke. Kyon's vision snapped back to the inn and he groaned. Before the doorway, the black swirling mass was slowing, condensing, writhing, the smoke giving birth to something terrible. The smoke collected on the ground and two pillars rose up, building the creature from the feet to the head. Before their eyes, a blank, swirling humanoid figure flexed its half-gas, half-solid arms. "I thought I lost you back home?" The creature laughed through a disfigured mouth that had no set shape, a deep, monstrous thing. It started to lurch forwards on fresh legs, but Clarke was frozen.

"It was you... it was always you." He started to step back, snapping twigs beneath his bare feet as the smiling thing slowly approached, "You never stopped following me, did you? You were always behind me, you just toyed with me, and now you're here..." Clarke started to tremble before suddenly turning and bolting without a word through the forest, Kyon in pursuit. He didn't dare check over his shoulder for the gaseous creature, instead concentrating on whatever rays of moonlight could penetrate the thick leaves above and reflect from Clarke's head. There was a deep thud up ahead and Kyon caught up to the alien, who battered the door that refused to open, hanging on nothing in the middle of nowhere.

"Bollocks! Why-won't-you-open?" Clarke bellowed, punctuating each word by ramming the door with his scorched shoulder. As Clarke attacked the door with inhuman force, Kyon looked back and found the shadow-thing getting ever closer, the glow of the burning house barely reaching them now. Clarke stopped pummelling at the door and leaned against it, his breath heavy. "I can't do it, Kyon." he whimpered pitifully, his eyes closed. He slid down the door and hugged his knees into his chest, trying to bury his face from the shadow, "I can't run fast enough and I can't fight hard enough. It's never going to leave me, it'll always be dogging my footsteps, always watching me, waiting for its opportunity. What's the point of running anymore?"

"Clarke, don't say that! Get up-"

"It'd be easier for us all if..."

"Just get up, we have to move! We can't-"

"I just gave up. Stopped trying."

"Damnit, get up!" Kyon roared, but Clarke was done and the shadow was upon them, like a small, dark Shinji, yet somehow much more terrifying. The alien just looked up into the shadow's face, shaking slightly and staring through bleary eyes without emotion. The look of a dead man walking. As Clarke looked into the face of the great shadow that loomed over him and didn't make a move against the blade-like arm that rose from the shadow's side, a thought like none other raced through Kyon's head;

_He's going to die. And I'm the only one who can save him._ Throwing aside whatever reservations he had, Kyon raised his arms to his head and barrelled into the shadow, landing hard on the thought about what had just happened before realising that he had just thrown himself to the ground and had met no resistance. He looked up, rubbing his grazed elbow, and gave the shadow a suspicious look.

_If he's solid enough to block light, why did I go right through him? _ The dark figure turned its shapeless head to Kyon and seemed to stare in disbelief at him before wailing at him a scratchy, hoarse sound. It was a sound worse than Clarke's scream, yet Kyon felt nothing. There was something very wrong with the shadow, or perhaps the 'manager.' It should have been terrifying, but Kyon stood with amusement. He approached the tall figure and waved his hand at its waist to test his theory. Sure enough, there was no resistance, no change in temperature, nothing. He simply passed right through.

"Clarke, stand up." Kyon asked quietly, silencing the shadow-manager's screech, its head turning to the alien. Clarke's eyes were watching intently, his body slowly unfurling like a cautious tortoise. The shadow started to shake and stomp like a tribal trying to defend his territory, but Clarke just stood and stared. Kyon took a few steps back to watch with a sense of satisfaction as the manager faltered when Clarke rose to his full height and cocked his head. The alien foreman approached the shadow that had gone silent and still before him and brushed his hand through it, feeling nothing. He looked up with an almost pitying look into the simple face.

"All this time... I thought you were hiding in the shadows, hunting me. But I was wrong, wasn't I? You weren't using the shadow, you were never _part_ of the shadow; you _are_ shadow. That's all you ever were." He shook his head slowly, a sad look on his face, "All this time I've spent running away... from you." Clarke reached out to the shadow's wobbly shoulder and Kyon jumped out of his skin when Clarke pulled down and brought the creature with him so he looked it in the eye with that melancholy look that simply didn't belong. The creature started to scream and struggle, trying to kick away from Clarke, but he held it firm. Its body was getting unstable and was fading from the feet up, just like it had formed. Standing there in the dark forest with the rain blocked high above and the icy cold ground below, Kyon watched as the head of the shadow thrashed violently on its neck before it faded all together. Silence fell onto the forest again. There was no din of screeches nor glowing of fire. There was a click beside the alien and the human and the door swung open, revealing the edges of the chessboard and the light of the failsafe. Without a word, the two stepped out of the dark, silent world and into the light.

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><p><em>As I step out of the door, it's important for me to explain to you that a lot has happened since I was last in the failsafe. Firstly, Alistair doesn't look like he's crapping his pants anymore. He looks serious, but that hint of worry has gone and he's sitting without moving around. Second, I notice how bad the wounds are on the second Clarke's arms. He's bleeding a lot, now that I can see properly, and it's revolting to see the bare sinew and muscle glisten red in the light, but he doesn't say a word about it. Thirdly, the light itself. It may just be eyes trying to adjust too quickly to the changes in light, but I swear, the failsafe has slipped a little further from grey over to white.<em>

"Ah, Kyon." the Clarke on the throne greeted with a small smile, beckoning his new guests over, "I see that you've been successful in deleting part of my head?" Kyon raised an eyebrow and Clarke pointed back to the door. Or rather, the lack of a door. He began to apologise, but Clarke shook his head, "No, Kyon, you've done well. Now, enjoy the exquisiteness of my next move." Clarke clambered over the arm of the throne and dropped with a thud to the solid blank floor and placed his hand on the second's burned shoulder.

"Welcome back." the first Clarke greeted, receiving a nod in return. Clarke turned his other to look at the board, where the approaching Victorian women pieces were staring at the new, injured Clarke. The burned Clarke raised his arm and pointed at them.

"I have learned what the human calls 'fear.' An organic mind is weak, susceptible to fright in the most pathetic of circumstances, but I am greater than this. Such things as fear of light, sound, volume of space and even other life forms are unnecessary and a hindrance to my task to defend those under my command. Therefore, they shall be conquered and dismissed. But I learned of something greater, Jack." His accusing stare shifted onto the strange dark figure atop his throne. "I have been freed of human fears and even the fear that you adore so much. There is _nothing_ lurking in the shadow. There _never_ was. Jack's fear and mindset are irrational whilst Alistair's must be perfect. Your dictation of what 'fear' constitutes is that which cannot be overcome, because it is non-existent, hollow, irrational. Anything irrational in a perfect mind must be deleted." Clarke took a deep breath and closed his eyes, still pointing to the pieces. "I am Foreman Alistair Clarke's fear. I serve the embodiment perfection and its mind. I shall _conquer_ the fears of reality without mercy and _delete_ fears of the irrational without hesitation." Kyon's breath caught in his throat as Clarke started to fade, turning to thousands of glittering pieces that flowed like a river, just like Asakura had done when she had been deleted. But instead of floating away into infinite, the particles of light coursed onto the chessboard.

The Victorian women screamed and tried to run to Ahmed, Giles and the elite guards, but the sparkling river washed over them, absorbing them, assimilating them. In a matter of seconds, every cruelly etched smiling face was gone from the board, flowing with the rest of the stream and sinking into Alistair's chest. The foreman smiled as he absorbed the last of the light, leaving Jack to contemplate losing two thirds of his pieces in one move.

"Wow!" Clarke called into the silence with a smile, "I'm really good at chess!" Jack's smile had turned flat, just a horizontal line of white and glowing eyes softened in dismay. "What's the matter, Jack? Going to have a tantrum 'cause mean ol' Al just mopped the floor with those old hookers of yours?" For the first time, Kyon watched as Clarke laughed loudly at his opponent and Jack sank into concentration, trying to marshal his ten remaining pieces into a force that could win. Kyon checked the board again and was surprised to see that Clarke now had four pieces. The newest piece was as blank as the third had been when it had appeared, though a little taller than its predecessor. The third, however, was gaining detail; it had masculine hands and basic clothes were starting to form on it, but nothing gave its identity away. Finding that the miniature Nagato and Asahina looked far more confident, Kyon decided not to ask after the two indiscriminate pieces. After all, he had more doors to fix.

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><p><em><span>Summary!<span>_

Clarke is next to move his pitiful forces against Jack's, the former slowly mulling over his move. Jack is suddenly dishevelled as he and Kyon realize that a third piece has bolstered Clarke's forces. It is a totally blank piece, humanoid yet with no details. Clarke doesn't explain and simply moves Nagato forward again, back into danger. She gives him a questioning look, but Clarke only speaks up to tell Kyon to get moving on the doors. Kyon leaves the two competitors to play their game, Jack suddenly far more wary. Clarke helpfully reminds Kyon that, after he has only been in Clarke's mind a few minutes, Kyon has three days before his mind will break from the stress of being in Clarke's head, setting a time limit on how long they can work. Clarke nearly drops a hint about the future of Kyon, but catches himself and commands Kyon through the door.

After Kyon steps through the first door, it shuts behind him and locks, preventing him from accessing the other side. Giving up on trying to open it, he surveys his surroundings; a dark, dense woodland. The trees are large and tall, their canopy laced so tightly that barely any light spills through from the moon. The air, too, is dense, muffling the sounds of the wind. Kyon begins to walk through the unchanging forest and trips. As he detangles himself from the jutting roots, he triggers an opening system, which opens the ground before him. A clearing is made by two opening plates and an old-fashioned inn begins to rise. At the top floor, Kyon catches a glimpse of an occupant trying to ram the window with its shoulder, to no avail.

After 'Smiling Jack's Inn' rises fully, Kyon proceeds into the dark, dingy and cold bar/lounge to be confronted by Ahmed, who seems to be working as the barman. Kyon declines a drink and asks after a room, noting that no other rooms are occupied bar number 11. Ahmed hands Kyon the key to number 10's room and warns Kyon that if he is found prowling the hall, the 'manager' will be contacted and Kyon will be thrown out.

Kyon begins to climb the stairs to the inn when he notices that someone has scrawled a desperate message for him. Reasoning that Ahmed and the manager would have no reason to write such a thing, Kyon reasons that it was number 11, undoubtedly the objective of this door's world. Kyon finds his way to room 11 and calls out to the person inside. There is a strange sound, as if there were a struggle inside, but no cries for help. Kyon leans to the old lock and peers through, the strangely flashing light inside hurting his eye. He finds another version of Clarke chained to the walls, arms restrained, movement restricted by littered broken glass and being constantly harassed by the flashing lights and deafening blasts of White Noise.

Kyon attempts to call out to Clarke, but he only seems to hear him very slightly. He lifts his head, his hair greasy and showing that his ears have been badly damaged, indicated by the dried blood. Realising that help has arrived, Clarke signals to the floor, Kyon understanding that the key to the door is downstairs with Ahmed. Kyon realizes that the more he learns about Clarke's true nature and the situation and struggles that he conceals behind his smile, the more he is inclined to help.

Kyon sneaks downstairs into the silent bar and dives in front of the bar, barely avoiding Ahmed, who bursts out of a door behind the bar. After finding no one, the Indian re-enters the room, Kyon following behind. Kyon inspects the small room from the doorway and notices that Ahmed has turned an old kitchen into his dormitory, the strangely gutted and salvaged remains of cooking equipment bordering the room. Ahmed has converted a grill into a workbench and seems to be working on something, but as Kyon creeps forward to get a better view, the floorboard cracks beneath him. The lamps in the bar are too dim to penetrate the room, so Ahmed has a small lantern above his head shedding light on his work. Sadly for him, the sound of cracking wood makes him jump and smash the lantern, plunging the room into darkness and allowing Kyon to stuff himself inside of an oven.

Ahmed lights a second lantern, allowing Kyon to see that by cracking his head on the lantern and falling from the chair, he is injured. Ahmed inspects the hole and Kyon notices his two creations in his other hand; two complicated metal rings, rigged to something. Ahmed leaves the room and proceeds upstairs, allowing Kyon to climb out of the oven and inspect the pieces of scrap metal that had been shaven and cut away from the main project with expert precision. He also notices that there are propane canisters, no doubt torn from the ovens.

Realising that the barman has returned from his business upstairs, Kyon retreats back into the oven. Ahmed sets the lantern on his desk and relieves a key on a string from around his neck and places it on a nail in the wall before going to bed. Yon realises that he still has his room key, meaning that it had to be room 11's. Luckily, the shock and damage sustained earlier sends Ahmed quickly into a deep sleep, allowing Kyon to grab the key and leave.

Kyon rushes back upstairs and enters room 11 and is suddenly overwhelmed by even the reflecting glare of the strobing lights and the loudness of the ringing. His shoes protecting his feet from the glass, Kyon walks over to Clarke and leans against the wall. His knees suddenly go weak and he sits next to the prisoner, the true stress of the torture reaching him in seconds. He begins to feel woozy and frightened and is about to resign himself when a desperate Clarke headbutts his shoulder repeatedly, rousing him. He realises that it would be pathetic to show fear now, seeing as Clarke had been here for so long and had stayed rebellious.

Kyon uses one of the two flashing floodlights to crack the black noise-emitting box in the high corner of the room and turns it off, ensuring the second is fully on and pointed at the floor. With his own stress vastly reduced, Kyon inspects the poor condition of Clarke's body; his bloodshot and tired eyes, the pupils that were damaged by the light to the point they can't open properly, the greasy hair caked in old dried blood. At that moment, Clarke wriggles free of the gag in his mouth and forces Kyon away. He gestures to his shoulders and Kyon realises that the small discs from earlier are now secured around Clarke's shoulders.

Upon inspection, Kyon sees that attached to the discs are a pair of propane canisters, aiming down at the straight jacket that restrains Clarke. There is also a lighting mechanism held away by a deadbolt, preventing the flame from igniting. But the trap is not that simple as keeping the bolts in. As the house first rose out of the ground, Ahmed realised that Clarke was attempting to break the window and call for help and that the chains around his ankles and wrists, along with the broken glass, were not enough to keep him still. The plan was that, in the event that Clarke could manage to get the chains away, he would still not be able to move, as the deadbolts have been attached to the wall, meaning that as soon as Clarke moves, the bolts are pulled out and the flames ignited. Furthermore, Ahmed has poured a canister of red diesel over the boy, a death sentence should he try to escape.

Clarke starts laughing desperately and lists all of the phobias that Ahmed has placed to torture him, including fear of light, sound, restraint and fire. Kyon uses the number 11 room key to unlock the heavy chains, but Clarke starts panicking when he spots a spider by the doorway. They are joined by several more and Kyon starts to joke with Clarke, but is terrified when he turns back and finds that a veritable armada of the eight-legged creatures are now swarming all over Clarke. The alien, clearly suffering from arachnophobia, panics and tries to run away to the door, inevitably setting himself on fire.

The walking fire stumbles through the inn and finds its way outside, some of the flaming petroleum sticking to a curious Ahmed. Kyon follows Clarke outside and finds that the fire has gone out in the face of the rain that began not too long ago, revealing that his face is largely unharmed, but his arms beneath the charred and blackened straight jacket are badly burned. Kyon tries to lead him away, but Clarke has a plan. He returns to the bar, uncorks all of the alcohol he can and douses the entire bar and lounge in the liquid. Using a match and the two propane canisters that fell off the charred straight jacket as it crumbled, Clarke improvises a kind of grenade, hurling it into the inn and setting the old, dry wooden structure alight. The two retreat from the clearing back into the trees, watching from the safety of the canopy as the flash storm dies down and the house burns. Observing the way the flaming windows, smoking chimneys and opens doorway make the house appear to be the eyes, horns and maw of the Devil, Clarke turns to congratulate Kyon. They notice that the light from the fire is dimming surprisingly quickly and Clarke is suddenly terrified to see a figure forming. From the smoke of the house, the 'manager' is born, a looming, spectral figure that scares Clarke into fleeing.

Kyon finds Clarke back at the door, using his insanely augmented alien strength to batter down the door back into the failsafe, but to no avail. Clarke turns hopelessly to the shadow, realising that 'it never left him, it was always following him.' In a moment of courage, Kyon figures out that the manager is just an illusion, a scary image that is somehow relevant to Clarke made to frighten him, though is completely hollow. Clarke too figures this out and scorns himself for not realising this, destroying the manager and thus opening the door to the failsafe.

The two re-enter the failsafe to find that the world is somehow brighter and that the original Clarke is looking far more confident, despite that the Victorian girls have crept one move closer to the Nagato piece. The second Clarke points to Jack and his pieces and explains that he is the original Clarke's fear and that, if he is to once again serve Clarke, rather than being trapped by Jack, he must be perfect. He fades from the failsafe and destroys the Victorian girls, all of them assimilating into Clarke and wiping majority of Jack's forces in one move. There is also a fourth piece forming on Clarke's side, but Kyon keeps quiet.

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><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>_

This was a very fun chapter to write, lot of metaphors and stuff to think about revolving the failsafe. Let me explain Fear's actions in a better way;

The second Clarke, Fear, points to Jack and his pieces and explains that he is the original Clarke's fear and that, if he is to once again serve Clarke, rather than being trapped by Jack, he must be perfect. Fear learns that human fear and phobias are childish, petty, beneath him, but most importantly, real. And because these fears are real, they can be conquered. Jack, however, was always scared of the darkness of London that he thought concealed the killer that destroyed his creations and was now stalking him. And thus, it was the incarnate of the shadows, the 'manager,' that needed to be defeated for Fear and Clarke to realise this.

The reason the Victorian girls were destroyed along with Fear was because Clarke no longer had a reason to fear them. To Jack and Clarke, those women were the murderers and the shadow was their hiding place, yet when Fear finds that the darkness is just a scary illusion, he disregards it. Without Fear being afraid of the darkness, Jack loses the Victorian pieces. After all, Clarke is perfect and overcomes physical fears, the women, and any fears that are abstract or can't be comprehended, the shadows, are ignored.

And so, Clarke regains control of his fear from Jack, helping him even the tides of battle and strengthen his chances of gaining full control over his own mind. Also, did you realise what piece of knowledge Clarke nearly told Kyon? It was the famous scene 'Kyon's Choice,' a scene from The Disappearance in which Kyon has to choose one of two worlds... Wait... Hold on... Clarke knows Mikuru, right? He knows some of the future. But if that's true, and he also broke time and is re-writing it, that means he knows exactly what he's doing and already knows the future that he's in the process of writing. He knows what's going to happen before he even creates the events that trigger it? And if he knows about the Choice...

See ya next time for more baffling metaphors, complicated-to-the-point-of-insanely-abstract-and -vague plot points, confusing and (purposely :P) mysterious time travelling clues and torment of the one and only Foreman Alistair Clarke!


	7. Stone Heart, Steel Will

_Early Author's Note!_

Okay, this is as much for your benefit as it is for my own; what's going to follow is Clarke's usual monologue for the chapter ahead, followed by an e-mail from Koizumi to his superiors. This recaps the story from you, the reader's, point of view with some of the insight and thoughts of the esper and the Agency. (Both of whom I use as ways to slip in details :P) Koizumi's e-mail will then be followed by Clarke's account of the past five days told in the way of a broadcasted report to his superiors and the interfaces under his command. Don't worry, I won't make you read his depressing past again, this is just filling in some awkward plot holes by seeing things from his point of view. ;) Have fun!

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><p>It is a common slur that male humans are unable to manage multiple tasks simultaneously, unlike females. Luckily for me, I'm no human. Yes, I am fairly proud of my ability to instruct a reluctant human on how to destroy corrupted data, fight a century- old battle within my own mind for dominance and simultaneously do my job of protecting countless thousands of my workers from an extreme threat without missing a beat. Quite proud indeed.<p>

* * *

><p>Itsuki Koizumi, reporting from the field.<p>

Today is Sunday 3rd November. This marks the fifth day that the variable Alistair Clarke has been in the vicinity of Suzumiya, causing much strain on my duties to keep her emotionally balanced. He is part of the group we know to be controlled by the Data Integration Thought Entity and has considerable power; he has demonstrated data-manipulation abilities that no interface has thus far expressed and is able to confidently command other know interfaces, Yuki Nagato being of note. Nagato, charged with the duty of simply monitoring Suzumiya without intervention, has shown that she has some form of quiet, independent thought that stretches beyond her orders and has aided myself and other members of Suzumiya's Brigade to the point of saving lives, leading us to believe that she is an ally in some matters. Clarke, however, is proving difficult for me to document.

On the day of his appearance five days ago, Wednesday 30th October, Clarke made alien contact with 'Kyon' and showed himself to be allied with Sanjit Ahmed and Rébecca Giles, two other suspicious characters that appeared along with Clarke. His physical appearance is of great importance, as it has much to do with his true nature; Clarke's outward appearance includes a seldom-dropped smile and peevish eyes. As you will understand, this smiling, almost cocky and taunting demeanour inspires instant distrust. He has showed such talent and etiquette as to play music with Ahmed and Giles, originally prompting me to assume that the three were a set of personas that Suzumiya wished to meet. I met with Agent Arakawa and tailed Clarke through the evening. We then witnessed Clarke step into a gang of several dozen ex-convicts and other wanted men and defend Suzumiya through combat. The two were then rescued by a car containing Ahmed and Giles, though the latter two were very eager to ditch Clarke as soon as Suzumiya was safe. This led me to believe that there were hostilities hidden between Clarke and Ahmed.

After school hours had ended the next day, Thursday 31st Oct., Haruhi Suzumiya was absent, recovering from the shock and stress of witnessing Clarke fight the night before. I followed orders and tailed Clarke through the school. Once again, he followed the previous day's repetition and went to the auditorium, where he played music with Giles. Suzumiya entered, searching for the three variables, hoping to meet them. She also used Nagato as a tracker. As a side note, interface Nagato has been acting with increasing amounts of emotion and this trend has rapidly increased since the entrance of Clarke. As if she could sense where he was, Nagato located Clarke and watched him with interest. Nothing that was said to her was given a response, bar the comment 'hostiles.' This then led me to believe that, if Suzumiya had wished to meet these three strange people, there was to be some form of turf war against the Brigade. Ahmed approached us and has shown to have an extreme sense of pride, shunting Nagato aside and harming her in the process. Evidently angered by this, Clarke showed his first glimpses of a second, almost psychotic nature that I have come to fear, using wire from the piano to reach the point where he could kill Ahmed for attacking the girl. Luckily, Clarke allowed Ahmed to live. I then returned home and reported this incident immediately.

On day 3 of his appearance, Friday 1st November, Clarke revealed his true nature. He went to the auditorium as usual but was met by neither Ahmed or Giles, allowing Suzumiya to bring him back to the Brigade. Suzumiya left the room and I began to interrogate Clarke. I gave him the chance to confess his true motives, but he stuck to his cover story. I began to question his origins, commenting that his peevish, daring and almost unnerving smile was akin to that of Nagato's expressionless appearance. He gave me no reaction to my accusing him of being not of this Earth, but suddenly became very hostile when Kyon labelled him 'evil' and an 'inhuman monster.' It was in this instance that my entire view on Clarke was changed. He was clearly deeply offended at these labels and Nagato, being his subordinate, respected his authority and was also offended by the comment. Interface Yuki Nagato, who has saved Kyon and the Brigade multiple times already, moved with hostile intent to harm Kyon, but Clarke ordered her to stand down. He then confronted Kyon and confirmed to us that he is an interface, though he showed free thought, strong will and heavy emotions. He claims that he and Nagato feel just as humans do, and just because they stick to one look doesn't mean they cannot feel joy, fear or loneliness. Emiri Kimidori, a known interface suspected of being in league with Nagato, diffused the situation and explained that Clarke is a Foreman. His duties, from what was said at the meeting, include deploying interfaces where needed in the Sol star system, suggesting that he has powers still beyond what he has shown, but also to literally defend the interfaces from harm.

This order in his contract explains his actions the previous day. Clark then demonstrated an all-new kind of data-manipulation; mind control. He has somehow written a program, the 'failsafe,' that allows him to take the conscious mind from a living being and place it in the program via looking said being in the eye. Once in the failsafe, an avatar was created for us to interact with the program. Clarke met us in the failsafe and placed us within one of his memories, allowing us to experience things from his point of view. Kyon's words of him being an evil monster had clearly affected Clarke deeply and it seemed that Clarke was determined to show that he is too a human, that just because he smiles and harms, does not mean he is enjoying the job or fears failure. He demonstrates this by showing us the fight between Ahmed and himself. I can vouch for Clarke that he was genuinely terrified of what Ahmed could do, though he still triumphed through incredible information and tactics. I have also learned that Ahmed and Giles are very much the enemy of Clarke, but the latter has a way of fighting back against the stronger Ahmed; whomever controls Ahmed does not trust him with his powers enough for him to use data manipulation at will. Clarke purposely used purely physical means of offense to prevent these measures being released, thus granting Ahmed superior powers.

Fourth day of contact, Saturday 2nd Nov., was the day that Clarke showed even more of his colours. Clarke, from what I can gather, is a very proud being of the humanity and powers at his control. But he is not foolish; he is sharp, mentally capable and knows his limits, but this does not stop him from engaging in combat, albeit fights that this tact and wit aids him in achieving victory. Clarke meets with the rest of the Brigade with his usual smile and generously hands a large amount of money to each of the female Brigade members to buy dresses for the night of dancing that he has planned. I suspect that this was a ploy in order to make Suzumiya trust him more. If so, it worked. Despite his less than friendly attitude to ridicule the previous day, Clarke flaunts his power and changes the clothes on my back in preparation for the night. Once at the travelling masquerade festival, I met the agent Mikuru Asahina, who explained that she was planning to disrupt time for the sake of saving Kyon. I'm sorry to say that I was unable to disrupt any of her actions for my charge of keeping Suzumiya balance also dictates that Kyon stays by her side.

During this night of dancing, I learned more of Clarke; aside from what I have already said, his intelligence also grants him an iron will. I'm afraid I can't fully comment on what is going to happen, but time is currently being re-written from two specific points; the re-write began that night and shall end once Clarke has 'learned to trust the human race again.' Through this, he will save us in the future, though the re-write is predetermined to end with his death. He conformed with Asahina's request and disrupted time, destroying many elite combat interfaces in total stealth and, using his ever-terrifying wits and eerie smile, forced Ahmed and Giles into retreat. I can only conclude that he is following the same path as Nagato; as we inevitably get closer within the Brigade, we are forced into the defence of one another, for whatever reason.

It is 12:34pm at the time of writing this report, the fifth day of Clarke's appearance, Sunday 3rd Nov. I will continue to document the movements on this still potentially detrimental factor in detail. When Kyon and myself confronted him about his identity, he took care to note that our lives are of no concern of his as they are not included in his duties.

* * *

><p>Log #15 – Monday 28th Oct.<p>

Attention Entity and all interfaces. This is Foreman Alistair Clarke. Signs of approaching scouting force sent from Canopy Dominion detected. They are due to arrive in the vicinity of the auto-evolution objective 'Haruhi Suzumiya' in two days. I am delaying my research from the south coast of England and shall relocate to Japan immediately in order to keep an eye on the enemy and provide support to all local units. I am taking another tenant to my duties; all interfaces that are taking part in the research of auto-evolution surrounding Suzumiya shall be personally watched, as it is highly possible that these scouts shall target these interfaces with hostile intents.

Log #16 – Tuesday 29th Oct.

I have arrived in Japan and have taken residence with interface Yuki Nagato, as she is in the most immediate danger from any scouting forces. All interfaces installed into North High school, be warned; I shall be installing myself amongst you. You must not act rashly should any harm come to a fellow interface or myself, as this may be seen as an attack on the scouting force. You are only to engage the enemy if I give the order. Do not approach me. Treat me as if I was a human or they shall realise my presence.

This is Foreman Alistair Clarke. Ignore last transmission; I have made contact with the scouting party. The Dominion has sent a task force to orbit Suzumiya; Combat Commander Sanjit Ahmed is personally escorting another interface, Rébecca Giles. We have made verbal contact and Giles seems to dissipate hostilities between us for the sake of Suzumiya. My suspicions were right; their appearance in Japan was no coincidence, they are targeting Suzumiya personally. I have managed to shake their confidence massively using passive intimidation psychology and shall be acting under the same alibi as they are in order to keep a close watch on them. With my seemingly neutral dogging and the prospect that I am capable of their death, I can almost guarantee that neither shall attempt to attack anyone.

Log #17 - Wednesday 30th Oct.

Contact has been made with organic life forms. Information provided by interface Yuki Nagato on the 'SOS Brigade' members has proved true. My first day of interaction with the humans of North High and the Dominion task force proved to be largely peaceful. Giles, probably fearing that I shall kill her, is trying extremely hard to keep the Combat Commander from acting aggressively towards me. Coward. If he were a true soldier, he would fight against the odds and kill me.

I have identified Giles' purpose and data composition and urge all units to be ready for immediate combat roles; the Canopy Dominion has completed a prototype Assimilator. She is a highly complex interface that has been sent to replicate all of the data surrounding Suzumiya and mimic her powers. If the theory of auto-evolution proves to be true and Suzumiya truly is the key, the Dominion will be granted the power to grow beyond what the Entity can control, but remember this; she is scared. They have sent a dog to guard a baby.

I have successfully installed myself into the school and have begun my preparations to infiltrate the SOS Brigade and gain Suzumiya's trust; I must be able to guard Nagato without drawing attention from Suzumiya and thus affect the results of Nagato's investigation. I defended Suzumiya against these filthy humans and implanted a short 'trust' routine. Thankfully, her mind has not developed a resistance to data, so my manipulation abilities are still valid to her. We were picked up by Ahmed and Giles; it was in our combined interests to keep Suzumiya from harm. Activating data manipulation was out of the question as I would have definitely scared Suzumiya, so was left with no other choice but to board the vehicle with the enemy in order to protect her. Through more psychological tricks, reinforced by my first impression, Giles didn't dare start any assimilation routines in my presence. After safely escorting Suzumiya home, the task force was eager to abandon me.

Log #18 – Thursday 31st Oct.

Hostilities have begun. Giles remains terrified of me and attempts to keep the task force's motives seemingly innocent by staying on my good side. War was declared the moment Ahmed attack interface Nagato. I managed to neutralise him using earthly means but allowed him to live. It is in our best interest that our forces be bolstered across the galaxy before I commit the act that will raise the violence of the ongoing war between the Entity and the Dominion. These tactics have further instilled fear into the enemy, weakening their resolve. Nagato was slightly damaged but I have seen to her. The threat level of my mission has been raised. From this point on, I must not leave Nagato's side, as she is in the most danger.

I would like to make it clear to all branches of the Entity that my position on the theory of auto-evolution regarding Suzumiya has NOT changed. I remain neutral to this theory. My actions are not in order to aide investigation. I am still strictly on security detail, I am merely respecting the complexity of my subordinate's research. I DO NOT give permission for any more interfaces to intervene on this investigation, pro-evolution or otherwise. To enforce this point that my orders to my superiors are not to be ignored, I would like to point out that I am still very much in control of my strategic weapon. I trust that you realise that I am fully prepared to use it. All I ask is space to breathe.

Log #19 – Friday 1st Nov.

My full identity has been revealed to the members of the SOS Brigade and my position has been made clear. It is important for me to note now that interface Yuki Nagato has started showing signs of malfunction; her emotional output has been fluctuating and these anomalies have only increased in frequency since my intervention. I once again stress that the weapon is still in place should I be ignored; Nagato is NOT to be deleted. I shall ask her about these fluctuations in a controlled manner when the time is right. She seems keen to defend me beyond what I deem to be appropriate for her position, as she attempted a critical attack on a human who insulted me on an emotional level and it took several orders for her to stand down. I have showed the humans my powers and they seem to be acting less hostile towards me, which can only be of benefit.

Log #20 – Saturday 2nd Nov.

A. CLARKE: Set security parameters

_Parameters ready._

A. CLARKE: Set 'Privacy'

_Privacy mode activated. Welcome to the secure log, Foreman. Log ready.  
><em>

A. CLARKE: That seductress has got me by the balls on this one. I have been forced into a contract by Mikuru Asahina. She knew that I couldn't compromise my orders and I wouldn't put Nagato in harm's way for any reason, and now I've been forced into service with all of her strings attached. This log must be kept secret as I may be deleted for my plot before I have time to deploy my weapon, but the flow of time shall be changed according to my word for an undetermined amount of time. As I log this, every breath I take and every word I utter is affecting the journey that I am creating in order to reach the end of my free-styled time period, which shall sadly end with my death.

I have chosen Kyon to be the one who will rectify this awful race's mistakes against me. This human's constant detrimental mood is infuriating, but Nagato has deemed him a person of trust, so he shall be the one to aide me in crushing Jack and end our three hundred year old game once and for all. Also, I think I am beginning to understand the reason for Nagato's sudden increase in fluctuations; due to her exposure to human life, she is finally coming out of her shell, but I fear that the increase itself it due to me directly. Oh Yuki, if you ever read this, your taste in men is awful. You had to choose the baddest of the bunch, didn't you?

* * *

><p>The populace of the city had very mixed reactions to snow. Some chose to enjoy it, others moaned and retreated back inside their homes at the sight of the snowflakes. There wasn't even that much snow, just a little that had fallen in the night and the gentle gale outside. Sitting in the café by the train station, four of the SOS Brigade waited for their leader. Clarke and Nagato were dressed finely once again, Nagato looking very comfortable in a large fur coat and Clarke's black trench coat making him look even whiter than the snow in comparison. Mikuru was laying her mittens on a nearby radiator and rubbed her hands briskly, trying to distract herself from the awkward, tense silence. She was dying to ask Koizumi what had happened last night, but knew she had no business in knowing about her future self in a way that would cause something to go wrong.<p>

However, there was something very wrong with the atmosphere; Clarke was smiling, as usual, but it really seemed to irritate Koizumi, who was typing on a laptop with frantic speed. Every now and then, his eyes would dart up and peer over at Clarke. They would lock eyes for a fraction of a second before Koizumi went back to typing. The alien seemed to be greatly enjoying this game. With a few decisive taps, Koizumi finished his writing and clicked the computer closed, looking at Clarke in earnest. To Mikuru, it was strange; two omnipresent smiles were colliding and competing. The usually calm one was trying to mask his frustration, whilst the usually charged, eager one was trying to look innocent. Neither of the new looks suited the boys. The esper opened his mouth to talk, but Clarke got there first,

"A few questions for you, Koizumi. Or Itsuki. Can I call you Itsuki? I feel we've become firm friends in the past few seconds."

"Oh. Well, I suppose you can-"

"Thank you. Thank you very much. It's important for you to feel at ease around me, Itsuki. It's important we build a level of trust. That way, I'll catch you completely unprepared when I suddenly accuse you of murder." Koizumi's eyebrows genuinely raised in surprise,

"What?" Clarke frowned and pursed his lips,

"Hmm, that wasn't the answer I was looking for. Maybe I mistimed that. Could we go back to that nice feeling of trust we had?"

"But I-"

"Did the victim, nicknamed 'Kyon,' have any enemies, Itsuki?"

"Did he?" Koizumi asked with a little glare. Clarke was still smiling, his eyebrows raised as if this interrogation was about to reveal the murderer, but what was most annoying was that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"No, that's what I'm asking you." Forcing himself to stay calm, Koizumi took a deep breath and decided to derail Clarke's teasing by just going along with it,

"Not that I know of, no."

"Then there was no real point of turning my question back on me, was there? Unless you wanted to distract me. You didn't want to distract me, did you, Itsuki?"

"No, that's not-" Clarke stood in the booth and squinted right into Koizumi's face, his amber eyes burning so close and hair resting on the esper's nose,

"Are you playing a game with me, Itsuki?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"So did you kill him?" Koizumi politely placed his hand on Clarke's chest and pushed him away so he could breathe again. The alien's smile hadn't faded and he looked like he was supremely happy with himself before going right back to his games, "But seriously, you did, didn't you? Come now, tell the nice alien detective with the dashing looks and velvet voice your secrets."

"I didn't kill anyone."

"It'd be okay if you did." That spun Koizumi. He couldn't think of a witty retort fast enough in the face of a comment like that, so he just gaped,

"How would that be okay?!"

"Well," Clarke cocked his head in thought, "Maybe not okay, but understandable. He did butcher the mood fairly often, perhaps he annoyed you? We've all been there, haven't we?" He turned his hopeful smile to Nagato, "Haven't we?" Nagato just looked at him, looking slightly confused, before an impossibly small smile came to her face as she shook her head. Clarke looked to Mikuru, who just jumped and looked away, even more intimidated in the face of this teasing attitude that had come from nowhere. "Of course, we've all been there." said Clarke, turning back to the esper, "We know how it goes. He says something that annoys you, you get angry, lead him to some Closed Space, all of a sudden he's lying dead and you're wondering where _did _the time go."

"I didn't kill Kyon! I didn't kill anyone!"

"Anyone? You mean there's more?"

"What?" Clarke sat back, tapping his chin and mulling over Koizumi with head at a recline. He pulled off the detective look rather well.

"You know what, Itsuki? I believe you. You have an honest face. You have honest ears." Clarke sighed and his smile weakened a little. He looked about the café, bored already of his teasing. Was he getting impatient for action? He turned to Nagato and muttered something before suddenly bursting out with, "Ninjas!" Mikuru squealed in surprise and Koizumi jumped, eyebrows up once again.

"I- I beg your pardon?"

"What if he was taken by ninjas? Seeing as you didn't kill him, Yuki was with Haruhi and Miss. Asahina was... doing her thing, that leaves the possibility that ninjas are involved. Itsuki, did you see any shifty characters in the park that night?"

"You mean apart from you? Well, there was an old woman walking her dog."

"Was she a ninja? Itsuki, we may have the answer to this riddle, was she a ninja?"

"I highly doubt it."

"Was there anything on her person to suggest that she was indeed a ninja? Katana? Shurikens? What about her clothes, was she wearing a tight black jumpsuit?" Koizumi shuddered in revulsion at the thought and could've cried with happiness as Haruhi walked through the door. Finally, she was here. She would make him behave, which was good for Koizumi, because until his superiors read his e-mailed report, he didn't know how to act around Clarke.

"Good to see you all here today!" She smiled broadly at her assembled team, her hair flecked with snow, "Now, we've got some very important planning to do today but I've just gotta go and change, I'll be right back!" Throwing her duffel coat onto the chair, she snatched up her gym bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Mikuru?" asked Clarke softly, trying to appear as docile as possible, "Can you please go and keep Haruhi company? I get the feeling the Koizumi wants to ask me a few things." Looking a little more confident in herself, Mikuru nodded, shed her coat and followed Haruhi. Clarke turned to Koizumi and rested his chin on his hands. "Alright, Koizumi, ask away. Most important question first, if you will, or Haruhi might interrupt us again." Slightly taken aback by his forwardness, Koizumi cleared his throat, took out a pen and paper from his coat and prepared to take notes.

"Whose side are you on? Really?" Clarke stroked his chin a few times before raising his arm and pulling Nagato closer,

"Her's, esper. I'm not your enemy, but don't mistake me for an ally either. I am here to A), Protect those under my command. B), just because I'm all for fair play, Keep Haruhi safe. Wouldn't want anyone to ruin all of my Yuki's hard work. Finally, C) Keep a close eye on Ahmed and Giles, seeing as they're the enemy. Come to think of it, the only reason I've taken an interest in Haruhi is _because_ Yuki's in danger _from_ Ahmed and Giles and I don't want all of Yuki's hard work to be in vain. So, I guess that means that," He looked down with a smile to Nagato, who looked very comfortable against him, "My whole life is revolving around Yuki." Koizumi tried his best to keep on track,

"Oh... So, does that mean that you support the theory that Haruhi is the key to your auto-evolution?" Koizumi had the sudden suspicion that Clarke could actually turn out to be a very strong ally to the Agency.

"Well, in an official capacity, I don't have an opinion. I'm the foreman, I just file the paperwork, tell people what to do and where to go and flex the muscle when I'm need. That said, between the three of us, I _know _that Haruhi is... very... special." Koizumi raised an eyebrow,

"For all your smooth talking, that was some hesitation?" Clarke just winked and tapped his nose,

"Spoilers." Clarke suddenly chortled, "I feel like something of a parent. On one hand, I've got Yuki, Emiri and many others who have supportive orders and maybe even opinions for monitoring Haruhi and waiting for her next burst of data. But I also have to keep the radicals in line, like Ryoko Asakura. Just like squabbling siblings." Clarke's smile faded a little and he looked like he was thinking hard. Koizumi jumped on this opportunity to take notes on Clarke's behaviour; he may not turn out to be as good of an ally as Koizumi had thought. "I have to admit, I felt a little sad when Yuki asked for permission to delete Ryoko. I hesitated at first, esper, tried to calm her down, order her to stop, but she was so convinced in her cause." He laughed a little, "She was almost perfect. She didn't let emotions cloud her vision, she was logical, she calculated each step, she argued well and she carried out her plan. Not evil, just on different ends of an argument. I almost admire her..." Koizumi shot a worried look at Nagato, who was looking at Clarke, possibly in confusion. From what Kyon had told Koizumi, Clarke was starting to act just like Asakura. Kyon had told him what the backup interface had said to him as she faded from existence back in the classroom.

'Someday, you might meet another interface that seeks radical change, or perhaps the one pulling Nagato's strings will change his mind.' Was this Clarke's plan the whole time? To literally get close to Haruhi and kill-

"Whoever sent Mikuru's just done me a huge favour!" Haruhi suddenly bowled into the booth happily and sat besides Koizumi. No one had seen Mikuru run so fast before, for the red blur flew from the bathroom door and instantly threw her coat around her.

"Miss Suzumiya?" she asked through chattering teeth, "I don't think this is really the right thing to be wearing in this kind of weather?" Haruhi wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention, rooting through her bag again,

"Oops! Almost forget this!" She pulled out a small plastic case and stuffed in her pocket, dragging a whining Mikuru back into the bathroom. Koizumi quickly pulled out his notes again and was about to start questioning Clarke's opinions on Haruhi for his superiors, but stopped when he noticed that Clarke was pulling a face. One eye was half closed and he was totally still, as if about to sneeze. Nagato leaned in close and whispered something to him, but he didn't react, just staring blankly at the table. Koizumi's eyebrows rose as he noticed how tightly Clarke was clutching his cup of tea, his pale skin starting to burn pink with the heat.

"Clarke?" he asked cautiously, "Is there... something wrong? That looks a little hot." Clarke didn't move for a few more seconds before gasping and pulling his hands away from the cup suddenly,

"Bloody Hell, that's hot!" he hissed, flexing his fingers, "Sorry about that, I was caught off guard for a second; I haven't been given orders in a... long time and the sensation caught me off guard." He looked up to Koizumi and his smile returned, but it seemed more friendly than before, "You might like my orders, esper; more and more branches of the Entity are starting to recognise the huge potential behind Haruhi. As a result, due to certain... skills that I've acquired over the years, I am now charged with another order; to stimulate specific emotions in Haruhi. In doing this, Nagato can read the data and together, we can find out what exactly is the cause of auto-evolution." Koizumi hesitated to answer,

"What kind of emotions are we talking about, exactly?" Clarke shrugged,

"Well, it's only logical to go through them all, one by one." This might be very bad indeed. After a lot of desperate squealing and struggling, the bathroom door burst open and Mikuru was dragged out by the wrist, trying to hide whatever Haruhi had done to her beneath her pink jacket.

"Today, the SOS Brigade is going to increase our club funds!" Haruhi announced, "Now, I've got our mascot," She held up Mikuru's wrist, who was keeping her head bowed, "And it's up to you three to get the ideas!" Mikuru's head raised and eyebrows raised all over the restaurant. Her eyes were watering, one bloodshot and suddenly bearing a maroon iris from the coloured contact Haruhi had haphazardly forced onto her. Mikuru looked around the restaurant, trying to find the one who would save her,

"Um, isn't Kyon going to be here today?" she asked, looking around the table with caution. Haruhi raised her eyebrows,

"Kyon? That's a weird name. Alistair, is he another transfer student?" All eyes turned to Clarke, including Koizumi's rather angry ones. Clarke met them with his smile for a few seconds before turning to Haruhi,

"It does sound somewhat familiar but... I'm afraid I've never met anyone by that name. What about you, Koizumi? Ring any bells?" He was playing a game. Koizumi had hesitated asking him about Kyon, lest he was on some sort of universe-traversing adventure with Clarke, but the snowy haired boy had clearly done something that he knew wouldn't sit well with the esper and had kept it a secret.

"No. Never." he replied stiffly. Clarke shrugged back to Haruhi, who started to question a baffled Mikuru. Koizumi was dying to talk to Clarke alone again, demand to know what he had done with the vital Kyon. But Clarke was talking to the table again, saying something very interesting,

"First thing to cause auto-evolution;... possibly a feeling of great responsibility or power. Power to rival that of a god or designer. To make one feel in control... to make one a god." A grizzly smile slowly cracked from Alistair's face as he turned to Haruhi. "Mikuru, are you by chance wearing a... battle-waitress outfit?" he asked slowly, receiving a small nod of conformation from Nagato. Haruhi raised her eyebrows,

"Wow, how did you guess that?"

"Yuki here is quite talkative once you get to know her better. I take it you've used said outfit to entice a sponsorship deal from shop owners?" Haruhi nodded again, suddenly looking cautious. Was he going to disrupt her fun? "Then how about we make a deal, Miss. Suzumiya, you and I? The Clarke family is a major holder in many medical firms, ranging from hospitals to biological research. I propose to you this; my family will pay for the SOS Brigade to be advertised and our clubroom completely redecorated if you, Miss. Suzumiya, cast me as the antagonist in 'The Adventures of Mikuru Asahina II.' What do you think?" Haruhi's eyes suddenly lit up as Clarke offered his hand over the table. She shook it feverently and hugged him to the point of him gasping for breath.

"Alistair, you're the greatest! I've never thought about a sequel to our movie. Oh geez, do you think your family will be okay with you making random deals? I mean," She straightened her back and tried to frown, but she couldn't help but return the Brit's smile. "The SOS Brigade is not to be taken lightly. There will be a lot of strenuous terms that you'll have to satisfy-"

"Then I'll throw in a professional photo shoot for the movie as a sign of good faith." Again, Clarke's neck was nearly broken under the crushing force of Haruhi's arms.

"Thanks a bunch, Al! I never thought that Mikuru would ever need to wear this again. It's a good thing I brought it!" She sat down and furrowed her brow, "But I'm not sure if I can really think of another story that was as good as the last."

"Then allow me to help you." Clarke crooned, locking eyes with Koizumi again, "I understand that Koizumi was, in the end, the aid to the heroine. If I am to be the antagonist in this sequel, the introduction should be... mysterious." Clarke picked up the salt shaker and wrote 'Yuki' and 'Koizumi' on the table. "We only know of Yuki so far and I suddenly appear on the scene. Obviously, Yuki here won't be of any help in her current state, so it is up to Koizumi and Mikuru to work me out for themselves." Koizumi raised his eyebrows. Was he really just telling the story of their lives whilst amusing himself? How devious of him. Clarke brushed away Yuki's name and replaced it with his own. "For a while, I remain an enigma; complex, more than meets the eye, neutral and yet there is a definite aura of danger around me. I will be approached cautiously, slowly, like a possibly hostile animal trying to disguise its fear and aggression. And just when Koizumi thinks he has me worked out, just when he begins to trust me and thinks he knows all about me," he chuckled deeply, swiping Koizumi's name from the table, "I strike." He turned to Haruhi and listened politely to her talk, nodding and agreeing with gusto to nearly everything, only taking moments to interject and embellish certain points.

Koizumi was a little confused; Clarke didn't seem the type to lie about something as serious and natural as his own orders, leaving Koizumi with two options; The foreman's latest orders on affecting Haruhi would indeed lead Koizumi into a false sense of security, allowing Clarke to capitalise on this opportunity and kill him, or even do to him what he had done to Kyon. That, or something between the time since Kyon disappeared and the following morning had caused Clarke to become less defensive and hostile, instead him becoming a little teasing, more... human. Less fearful in letting his guard down. Clarke stood and sidled out of the booth,

"I'll just be a moment." he apologised, taking a phone from his pocket, "I'll need to make a few arrangements back home. Koizumi, I think you've spilled some sugar by your hand." He patted the esper's shoulder encouragingly before buttoning his trench coat and wandering outside. Moving slowly as to not attract attention, Koizumi slowly moved his left hand and found that Clarke had manipulated the salt to form a message. 'Trust me he is safe ;)' Koizumi allowed himself to smile a little. That settles it then, he mused to himself, if he's put a smiley face, there's no doubt about it. Clarke came back in and brushed some snow from his coat,

"Well, everything's been solved. Mother dearest is transferring me a budget to my account for the movie and father dearest is organising a photo shoot crew right in the city. So, Haruhi," he squatted onto his heels beside her and looked up into her eyes deeply, "Are you excited?" The brunette girl's eyelids fluttered and she seemed a little short of breath,

"Y- Yeah, of course I am!" She looked like she wanted to embrace Clarke, but hesitated, "Alistair, I'm going to make sure that all of this service that you've done for the SOS Brigade is going to be documented and kept in the clubroom for all the future generations to see!" The Brit doffed an imaginary hat,

"Honoured, my leader, I truly am." He craned his neck and checked the outside world, "Looks like the snow is still coming down, but it's not too bad. Haruhi, I think this might be the ideal time for us to go location hunting, see where we can shoot and maybe we'll even start working through a plot!" Koizumi sighed as Clarke laid his honeyed words in Haruhi's head. Without Kyon to be the stern, indifferent voice of reason and Koizumi's own confinement to keep Haruhi happy, he feared that this escort mission from Clarke was turning into an occupation. Haruhi threw on her coat and went to pay the bill whilst Mikuru tried to get the esper's attention.

"Um, Koizumi? Um, my legs are... Um..." The two teens couldn't quite look each other in the eye, too embarrassed in this new scenario. Usually, Kyon would be the middle man in all of this, but without him-

"Here, Mikuru, I'm sure mine's warm enough." Clarke interjected, suddenly behind the girl. With an almost practiced grace, he slipped his uniform-like coat onto Mikuru, who jumped and nearly squealed, but went oddly still. She turned in confusion when nothing awful happened, looking Clarke dead in the eye for the first time. The foreman seemed to quake a little and even started to blush before turning his head proudly away,

"What? You're a lady, I can't just keep it for myself. Besides, I lived on the island of Britain, this feels like summer to me!" he declared before following Haruhi to the door with Nagato in tow. Koizumi raised an eyebrow; it seemed his second hypothesis was correct: Something, possibly to do with Kyon's recent disappearance, had, or still is, affecting Clarke's behaviour. Mikuru's chest didn't fit well in the coat made for Clarke's skin-and-bone physique, but the time traveller felt oddly warm all over.

"Coming, you two?" called Clarke, "We best stay together, in case we need to discuss locations!" Koizumi and Mikuru hurried over to the group and the SOS Brigade stepped out into the snow. There were a few more couples out now, families milling around in the snow, but Koizumi couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

"We should head this way." Clarke suddenly declared sternly, steering Haruhi away from the train station plaza and towards the outskirts of town, through the bows of long-dead cherry blossom trees. "This makes for much deeper scenery, don't you think?" Why was Clarke sounding so strained all of a sudden? Koizumi slowly turned as Clarke talked feverently to Haruhi, the snow starting to fall heavier now. There was an elderly couple shuffling towards them gently, along with a mother and her two sons following behind them. Nagato, too, was watching the two groups intently, but Clarke was the most peculiar of all. His sentences were broken, as if he were focusing on something else or out of breath.

"Excuse me, young lady?" The whole group span in unison to find Nagato being leered at by the bony old woman and her husband, the former's thin fingers wrapped around Nagato's arm like spiders, "Could you give an old lady the time?" Clarke stopped his facade of trying to keep Haruhi's attention and Koizumi felt his heart nearly burst as he caught her by the chin and stared into her eyes,

"Haruhi," he whispered seductively, his other hand raising to stroke her cheek, "You look so cold. Why don't you sit beneath that gazebo over there? Don't worry, my dear leader, I have everything under control. Just leave it all to me." Haruhi's tired eyes flickered a few times before she giggled dumbly,

"Sure, just don't take long!" She hummed softly and meandered her way almost drunkenly to the small wooden shelter. Clarke dropped the look and became serious, striding to the woman and attracting her attention,

"Excuse me, madam, but I suggest you let go of her arm. She's looking rather uncomfortable and I don't appreciate it." The woman's grip didn't ease, but her saggy features and dark eyes did fill with a hint of venom as she looked up to the slightly taller Clarke,

"Oh my, what a forward young man. So slim, so powerful, so handsome, I bet you get all of the girls falling head over-"

"The last eight Dominion dogs who tried to evade me and harm my interfaces were the Elite Guard and I bet you haven't heard much from them since last night, have you?" The old woman's snarling smile dropped and her 'husband' tried to pull her away, but Clarke seized her arm and chuckled to the lavender haired girl. "How cute; Ahmed sent a more stealthy force to try and kill you off, my Yuki." The old woman jolted slightly and went rigid as Clarke's grip grew tighter around her arm, his shiny white teeth all on display as he smiled down to her, "You tried to pick out the calf in the herd and didn't realize there was a bull, and now that you realise who you're dealing with, you seem far less confident in approaching Suzumiya." Clarke let go of the woman's arm and bowed politely, "Have a good day with your family, ma'am." The old woman's mouth worked to form words, but her silent husband had more sense, taking her hand and pulling her away, only to come face to face with the woman and her two suddenly very still children. The three stared at the old couple, still and silent. Clarke raised his hand and crossed his fingers,

"Permission to engage the enemy with lethal force granted, escort team." The foreman snapped his fingers and the two children pounced like animals onto the elderly couple, restraining them whilst the mother leaned down. The woman, who looked no older than thirty five and so very human, brushed her fingers to their faces and uttered a thousand words in seconds. It was an odd sight, seeing the silvery rainbow of sparkles raise from the interfaces and drift into the sky against the snow. After ten seconds, the children were back to playing, their mother watching them with care and concern, her duty done. Koizumi gaped at the efficiency of the foreman, who had already set off towards Haruhi.

"Clarke, a word?" he asked. Clarke's smile was already back and he rolled his eyes with a sigh,

"Very well then, esper. Yuki, my dear, could you please take Mikuru and keep Haruhi company?" Nagato nodded and lead the way, the still startled Mikuru following on. Clarke started to stroll back the way they had come, watching the two boys play on the snowy banks that flanked the path through the trees. "Well, ask away."

"I wanted to know more about your powers. I've already seen that you take a person's mind and put it into your failsafe, but what about combat? Why not just delete those two interfaces right away?" Clarke sighed slowly, his thickly gloved hands gripping an icy railing that blocked the undergrowth's expansion.

"Because that's not what I'm designed for. I may be able to manipulate a lot of data, but I wasn't meant to be a fighter. I just created my own powers as my mission dictated. I was originally just a scout, a researcher. I came here to learn, test, experiment and manipulate, but never to fight. That's why I made an escort team to come with us today. They keep us safe because they're able to concentrate all of their power into deleting other formations of data. I _could_ have fought them my own way, but it was far quicker to have the escort team do it."

"And how exactly would you go about that?" Clarke pursed his lips,

"Well, I suppose a punch-up would've worked against those two, but to exterminate a larger foe, I'd have to put them in the failsafe. From there, esper, I'm a god. I could do whatever I please to them in there, but the difficulty in that is getting close enough that I can implant the routine into them to get their mind, or even their whole being, into the failsafe. Basically, get them into the failsafe and crush them like ants." Koizumi checked over his shoulder to make sure no one shifty was approaching the girls,

"Alright then, what did you do to Miss. Suzumiya? Was it the same trick you pulled on Kyon back on Wednesday morning?" Clarke laughed softly,

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that, as this is going to sound quite confrontational. You're not advanced, human. Your race is stupid, young, unable to harness the powers of data manipulation or comprehend it. The reason why I was personally selected to provoke actions from Suzumiya back in the restaurant is because I have extensive knowledge and experience in the field." He turned to Koizumi with his glowing eyes and camouflaged hair, "You've got to understand, esper, that I was something of a forerunner to humanoid interfaces. Yuki is far more advanced and the escort team standing only a few yards away from us is the latest design, created this morning. As such, I don't have much in the way of manipulation over a large range, so I need to be in near physical contact to exact my powers. As such, to put someone in the failsafe, I need to be close and look them dead in the eye. This is what I did to poor Haruhi; looked into her eyes, implanted data routines into her head to make her trust me for a short time and, hey presto, her brain obeyed."

He looked over his shoulder, noticing that Haruhi was starting to look awake again, "Alas, esper, these routines do not linger in the mind, they're just a suggestion. I suggested to Haruhi that she trust me, but she's not exactly throwing her trust to me easily, so she's coming back to her old self." They began to walk back slowly, Koizumi wanting to catch every word. "So, that's how I do it; I operate by looking into the eye and planting suggestions, I kill by abducting the enemy and beating them in an unfair game. But careful you don't underestimate Foreman Alistair Clarke, esper," He grabbed Koizumi's arm and curled his fist with a smile, "I may not be able to attack over _range, _but you still don't want to get in the way of this." He laughed at Koizumi's expression as the esper scribbled down notes again before stuffing it into his jacket, fixing his smile as they both walked to Haruhi and the others.

Haruhi shook her head slightly, trying to get rid of the strange feeling of numbness. What made her do that? What was it about Clarke that he could just look at her and she felt so... safe? Why did that hair, that skin and that face make her want to stay still and watch him for hours? What about him walking through the snow with the slightly taller Koizumi, dressed in his boots, jeans, shirt and smile make her giddy with excitement? Haruhi pulled her gaze from the Brigade's newest member and looked down to her cold hands, sinking into thought. Her mind had cleared now, but something had been troubling her since the dance last night. She felt as if she was... forgetting something, something that was so glaringly obvious that it had become natural and routine, but now that it was gone, she couldn't remember what made it special. Four lean, pale fingers floated before her and pushed a thick pair of leather and fur gloves into her palms. She looked and found Clarke smiling down at her, but he was different this time. She still liked the way he looked, his quirky hair and hawk-like eyes, but she didn't feel as warm to him as he had when he had taken her in his arms and caressed her cheek.

"I think these'll look better on you." His voice like velvet, his wink secretive and his smile full of mischief, all of it, what did it mean? Clarke briskly brushed the snow from his arms and couldn't help but shiver slightly, stomping onto the dry wooden floor of the gazebo. With his gloves now with Haruhi and his coat still around Mikuru, he was starting to feel the chill. "Well, shall we carry on?" Haruhi looked a little distant, nodding and leading the way quietly. Clarke watched her pass, his heart bumping about in his chest a little when something brushed his hand. He looked back and found Nagato holding out a single glove for him. He smiled at her golden eyes and small face in the big hood,

"You know, Yuki, those tend to work better when you're wearing them both at the same time." His smile faltered a little when Nagato didn't reply, instead staring at him with her straight face. Over the past few hours, and especially since the dance, Clarke had noticed that Nagato's face was slowly slipping from her blank, emotionless mask into a very small smile. The girl took his left hand and slipped the glove onto him.

"You are the leader," she cooed quietly, not meeting his eye as she fitted the glove onto his hand, "It's my duty to keep you safe as much as it is yours to keep me safe." The foreman couldn't help but widen his grin as Nagato held out her ungloved hand and intertwined it with his, pulling him gently after Haruhi. He had to give it to the interface, the girl was more cunning than she looked.

Haruhi was still thinking, her feet leading her through the snowy park whilst her mind mulled over recent days. It embarrassed her to even think it, but it was only logical; the way she felt around Clarke, the way her heart beat a little faster when he talked to her and, most of all, the girlish swooning whenever her looked at her mushily. Could it be possible that she was falling for the exchange student? To test her theory, she nonchalantly turned to find the Brit, her eyes falling on him and Yuki holding hands, their skin so much the same colour. He was smiling still, talking quietly to Nagato, who was rapt with attention. Haruhi huffed and her head shot back front; she wasn't jealous of Yuki. No way.

Koizumi watched Haruhi with interest, walking side by side with Mikuru in their leader's footsteps. It wasn't like Suzumiya to be this quiet for this long. Her look back to Clarke and Nagato was also of worry. Koizumi mimicked the girl's action and found the two aliens holding hands, lagging behind the group and talking quietly. The esper raised his eyebrow and smiled; Clarke was definitely changing. Or maybe he wasn't changing, as such, he was just showing his true colours a little more. It was almost a heart-warming sight to see the stoic Nagato looking so content. Koizumi's mind started to clunk into gear like clockwork, thoughts occurring to him that made him very worried indeed. No, surely it was just the incident with Kyon and Clarke that had put him on edge. After all, Clarke had said he had made Suzumiya trust him, nothing more. Then again, it was always worth checking, just in case. The esper slowed his walking, retreating back to Clarke's side.

"Excuse me, Clarke?" The foreman sighed a little and looked to the esper, disappointed that his time alone in the beautiful snow-covered park with Nagato was interrupted, "You said that you used data to suggest to Miss. Suzumiya to trust you?" Clarke nodded slowly, "Did you do anything else to her?" The foreman shook his head,

"No, Yuki and I are taking a break from work. There's plenty of time to document all of the other emotions. Why do you ask?" Koizumi flicked some snow from his hair,

"I guess I was just being a little paranoid, but... I thought that Miss. Suzumiya had watched how close yourself and Miss. Nagato are getting and was getting a little-" The esper froze. He was right. Closed Space had opened directly ahead, not thirty yards in front of Haruhi. Clarke stopped dead, turning and meeting the esper's eye with a large smile,

"Jealousy?" He turned to Nagato eagerly, "Yuki, make sure you record all of this! This may be the last time we get to observe jealousy so closely!" Nagato nodded obediently and, to Koizumi, stood still and did nothing, though he was wise enough to know that Nagato didn't have to move to do what she did best. Clarke laughed a little and turned to Koizumi, "Well, what do you know? I certainly didn't expect that to happen. Jealousy, eh? I guess that means whatever Haruhi's about to walk into needs your attention?" Koizumi watched the grey bubble ahead expanding, taking a little comfort in the fact that she had walked right past the boundary of the bubble. As long as she kept heading forwards, there was no chance of her getting into the alternate dimension where the shinji roamed and destroyed. Koizumi took off at a run and nearly broke his neck as a grip like a vice locked onto his arm. He turned to find Clarke clutching his arm, the smile gone. Instead, Clarke was somewhere between shock and fear.

"Jealousy." he stated, staring at Koizumi through amber eyes stained with panic, "You said she looked back to me and felt jealousy." Still full of adrenaline, Koizumi didn't catch on, "If you think that Haruhi has fallen for me and I can sense her jealousy, that can lead to only one result." Koizumi's heart sank a little as he finally realised what Clarke had meant, the foreman's grip falling from the esper's sleeve as he turned to the girl behind him. "She's going to target Yuki." Koizumi stood there, trying desperately to think of something to say to the foreman, but Clarke beat him to it,

"Forget it, just run! Take care of what you have to do, I'll watch things here!" Koizumi hesitated for a second before realising how rapidly the Closed Space was expanding. He raced off, darting past Mikuru and using his esper abilities to run straight into the semi-visible bubble, his feet treading untouched snow from another dimension. He looked around and saw that there was thankfully only one shinji, its great luminous blue body stomping about and wrecking the landscape. The esper went to work.

Outside of the grey space, Clarke beckoned Mikuru over, making sure Haruhi was still walking, "Mikuru, I've got quite a severe problem on my hands. Could you do me a huge favour and make sure Haruhi's attention is focused on me for a few minutes. I doubt she'll ask where Koizumi's gone, she'll be more focused on me. Can you do that?" Mikuru noticed that Clarke's smile had fallen to a look of melancholy, but she didn't question him. He looked almost pleading and if he could distract Haruhi from inevitably noticing Koizumi's disappearance, she couldn't turn him down.

As Mikuru toddled through the snow and called to Haruhi, she didn't notice the girl skirting the snowy tree line. As she caught up to a moody Haruhi and tried to draw her attention away from walking, the girl in the trees gently descended the slope and ducked the metal railing, approaching the two aliens calmly. She was a tall girl, her hips shaking with a well-honed practice, her flowing silver-blonde hair sparkling in the semi-light and her eyes as cold as the wind that bit her cheeks. Her designer boots did not falter or fail on the unpredictable ground, imprinting perfectly measured footprints into the shallow blanket of white. She hesitated when Nagato spotted her, but kept walking nonetheless. She had to confront the boy with his back to her, had to talk to him without the interruption of her escort. She watched younger girl nod to the boy and she swallowed hard; he knew she was there. Negotiations had begun. Rébecca stopped a few yards away from the aliens, waiting for the foreman to address her.

Clarke grumbled a little to himself as Nagato suddenly caught his eye and warned him of the approaching Dominion Assimilator. Perfect timing, just in time to interrupt everything. He donned his menacing ear-to-ear smile and slowly turned, feeling Giles' fear already flowing through her. She looked gorgeous, like a wingless angel. Sadly, there was no one around to appreciate her.

"Ah, Miss. Giles!" he sang softly, bowing low without breaking his stare on her, "Such a pleasant surprise to see you here! Are you enjoying the weather?" She shakily opened her mouth to respond and Clarke noticed that she was trying her best to look determined. He couldn't let her gain any confidence, not this close to Haruhi. He had to keep her under the fear. He pulled Nagato closer and lowered her hood, interrupting Giles and stepping to her side, appreciating his work of art, "Just look at her, my sweet Miss. Giles. Does she not make your head swim?" He turned to her and noted her loss of confidence. She looked stiff and her breathing was irregular. Much better. Now it was time to let her speak. If he bullied her too much, she would give up trying to make peace and turn fully hostile, losing her fear in the process. She cleared her throat,

"Alistair, I- I'm here to discuss something with you." His unchanging, eerie staring smile didn't shift an inch, "I... I wanted to ask you as kindly as I could for you to... for you to leave me alone!" she rushed out, almost wincing when Clarke raised his finger to his chin.

"Leave you alone, Miss. Giles? I wasn't aware that I had harmed you?" Giles panicked, realising that she had given away her fear to the enemy, little did she know of Clarke's true insight. Clarke tutted softly, "Come now, Miss. Giles, why don't you tell me what's wrong? Who knows, you might not even see tomorrow!" Giles' knees shook a little and her legs begged her to run from the foreman, but she stood her ground,

"Can't you just let me do my job? I thought we were friends for a while, Alistair, but now... you terrify me." He gave no reaction. She spluttered and her voice raised desperately, "Can't you even say anything? You must have some heart behind that smile or you wouldn't be protecting little Yuki." Clarke's head cocked to an impossible angle, looking her dead in the eye,

"You think something a perfect as me would _feel_? I have a heart, yes, but it does nothing more than pump blood around this organic body. But you don't mean a physical heart, do you, Rébecca? You mean that intangible, ridiculous thing that humans call 'emotion.'" He chuckled deeply and closed the small space between them to a foot, "Show it to me, Rébecca. Show me your heart." He stopped just before her and raised his hand, his snow-white fingers lingering an inch away from Rébecca's quivering chest. "If I impale your elegant chest, will I feel it?" The French girl was shaking now, her eyes stuck wide open and her long trench coat nearly fluttering. Clarke raised his hand, his fingertips almost in contact with Rébecca's quivering face. "If I gouge your eyes from your pretty head, will I see it?" Rebecca's vision focused on the fingertips for a moment before switching to the amber orbs that so desired to maim her. She could take no more. Her nerve broke and she gave a short, squeaky yelp, her fur boots carving rivets in the snow as she collapsed where she stood. She pressed her gloved hands to her face and wept hard, her sudden, desperate, terrified tears soaking through the material. Clarke watched with her with a merciless indifference, the senior girl crying uncontrollably as her whole body shook with stress and fear.

Clarke could feel it, the same rush of power that Jack had experienced three centuries ago. Looking down at the crying girl before him with her life in his hands, just like all of those poor girls that monster in his head abducted and mentally tortured before finally silencing them, snuffing out the light of these fragile, fragile creatures. But Clarke was determined to be everything Jack wasn't. Jack was a monster and Clarke was sane, so he did not capitalise on the situation. He didn't kill Giles. He didn't even lay a finger on her, nor did he speak. To do either of those things would only traumatise the girl more.

Instead, he took a deep breath and aimed a palm at the girl, muttering a few words. A translucent sphere began to rise from the floor beneath Giles, the bubble encapsulating the assimilator. He concentrated hard, layering the outlines of the bubble with programmes of disinterest. He had practiced this manipulation in the past on the outskirts of London to remain hidden from the humans. He created a sphere, a kind of blank shell of data, around the old couple's house and implanted routines into it, almost adorning the shell. Any human who gazed on the shell would at first be aware of the house, but inevitable eye contact with the shell around it resulted in being implanted with the disinterest routine. They would gaze in wonder at the old house and hear the sure sounds of a piano coming from within before suddenly losing interest in the relic of a house and walking off as if it was never there. With Clarke's power in place, Haruhi could walk right by Giles and never realise that she was there. A small tug at Clarke's elbow attracted his attention. There was a flicker of fear in Nagato's eyes,

"Sir, I'm at risk." It wasn't a question she needed Clarke to answer, she was smarter than that. Clarke's head swam a little as he stealthily glanced to his side. Good, Haruhi was taking an interest in the situation. It was time to act. The foreman took Nagato in his arms and hugged her, clutching her warm form close, listened to her breathing, felt the snow on her hair melt onto his cheek. This was all he wanted from life, and it killed him to know what he had to do to preserve it. His throat tightened and his heart quickened as he pushed Nagato away slightly. He tried on a shaky smile and stroked her cheek as she gazed at him inquisitively, a little disappointed that he'd let her go.

"Y- Yes, Yuki, you are." he said softly, "But I won't let her take you. You understand? I won't let anything happen to you. Just, please Yuki, remember that I do this because..." He leaned down and, with the gentleness of the snow landing on the ground, he kissed her. For a fraction of a second, Nagato was still, but she followed her instinct and began to loop her arms around Clarke's neck and was just about to kiss back when the foreman pressed a finger to her lips. He shook his head and looked her in the eye. So very many emotions swirled in those fiery eyes, "I do this because... I love you. I do, Yuki, I truly love you. So I'm sorry."

Haruhi sighed in frustration, "I don't get it, Mikuru, what do you find so interesting about those two?" The fiery haired girl looked a little lost as Haruhi started to shift impatiently, watching Clarke and Nagato being so close with irritation.

"Um, don't you... Uh... Think they look cute together?" Mikuru attempted feebly, panicking as Haruhi was about to turn away and keep walking. If she lost interest in whatever Clarke's plan was, she'd notice that Koizumi had disappeared. But Haruhi didn't lose interest. She moved slightly, about to turn away for good, but she suddenly cocked her head and her attention snapped back onto her two strange subordinates. Clarke was looking cold without his coat, the snow around him emphasising his skinny form and pale skin. Nagato was looking confused, slightly shorter than the elder boy, watching him intently. Clarke shook his head without words and raised his ungloved hand over his shoulder. Nagato moved towards him slightly, looking to him embrace him.

For Haruhi, everything stopped. The snow fell slower, the rumble of cars on the far off roads were silenced and even her breathing went still. Clarke's hand swept down from the sky quickly, the boy visibly flinching as it connected with its target. There was a harsh crack as he slapped little Nagato hard, the girl recoiling. Clarke lunged and grabbed her by the collar, roaring at her with hatred in his face. Haruhi couldn't make out the words, but she certainly understood Nagato's suddenly trembling lip. As Clarke snarled and bellowed, it took the freshman girl mere seconds to go from shock to tears. Her lips started to move shakily as her hand reached to the burning mark on her cheek, but Clarke just barked again, dropping her collar and storming away. Haruhi's mind was blank as the Brit stormed past her and she could swear that the snow in his wake turned to water in the air. He didn't meet anyone's eye, but Haruhi could see the hurt and the anger mixed in his proud face as he strode away from Nagato. The girl was standing in shock, trying to prevent herself from crying, but only succeeding in spluttering and shaking. She reached out a hand to Clarke but didn't call out to him, a last gesture of desperation, before surrendering to her emotions. She stumbled to a snow covered bench, sat down lightly, put her face in her hands and began to cry.

As the great Shinji roared for the final time and started to fade from the dimension of grey, Koizumi watched with satisfaction as the dome of the Closed Space cracked and burst, great flakes of grey darkness falling like shards of glass, giving way to the gently snowfall and... Koizumi had to blink a few times. As the final shreds of the grey world disappeared, he found himself standing before Clarke, whose face was set like stone, his arms folded across his chest as head held his head high. Koizumi leaned around him and saw Mikuru and Haruhi standing stock still, their faces set in shock as they attempted to talk to one another and occasionally glanced over at Clarke. Nagato was sitting some way off, her face in her hands, across the park's path from none other than Rébecca Giles, who clutched her slim body as she shook, running her fingers through her shining hair.

"Clarke, I... What did you do? You should've waited for me! The Agency could've helped you-" Clarke turned to him, showing his amber eyes. It was not the first time that Koizumi felt as if those eyes were burrowing into his mind and searching his soul with their bright intensity,

"Don't bother, Koizumi, this is none of your concern. It is as I told you," Clarke hesitated and his head dipped quickly. When he raised it, veins had crept into his watering eyes and his face was set into a forced scowl, his brow and stiff upper lip quivering, "I am not on your side." His voice quaked and his scowl was shaking and falling, "My duty is to protect those under my command no matter what. I do what I do because I love them, esper. If they are safe, then I can be happy in the fact that I have done my duty." A solitary tear rolled from his proud face and dripped into the snow, "But... that doesn't make it hurt any less." Koizumi shook his head, taken aback by the scene before him.

"Clarke... how could you do this?" The foreman quietly cursed himself and angrily tore off his single glove, throwing it to the ground and angrily wiping away his tears. He looked Koizumi in the eye again but didn't bother to clear the fresh tears,

"How? Bloody stupid question. I do it because I don't have a choice, human. I do it because, for all of my strutting about, all of my mind tricks and all of my pride, I'm still caged like an animal by my duty." He raised his arms as if presenting paradise to Koizumi, behind him the weeping Nagato and the trembling Giles, "This is what I do to save those who are dear to me. Tell me, esper," He began to walk to Koizumi, placing a hand on his shoulder, "What does your cage look like?"

* * *

><p><span>Summary<span>

Sunday morning starts with a gentle snowfall and Koizumi finishes his report in the restaurant beside the train station. He, Clarke, Nagato and Mikuru all wait for Haruhi to arrive with a tense silence. Koizumi goes to question Clarke, but the foreman interrupts him and plays a game with him, insisting that he murdered Kyon. Clarke gets visibly bored of waiting and continues his teasing, Haruhi eventually dropping in. She walks into the bathroom to 'prepare' something and Clarke sends Mikuru off after her, knowing that Koizumi has questions for him. During the questioning, Clarke makes it clear to Koizumi that he is neither friend nor foe. He is on Nagato's side. He also lists his duties;

Protect those under his command.

Keep Haruhi safe.

Monitor Ahmed and Giles personally.

Though the foreman does point out that he is only watching Haruhi because he doesn't want all of Nagato's efforts to be in vain and has installed himself in the SOS Brigade to protect Nagato from the Dominion task force, as she is in immediate danger. He also hints that, although he is officially not allowed to be biased for or against the theory of auto-evolution, he knows that Haruhi is 'very special.'

He then reminisces and laments Ryoko Asakura, a girl who he permitted to be destroyed by Nagato. He envies Asakura for not having emotions to cloud her judgement of a situation and sounds as if he reveres her, causing Koizumi to get very nervous. The esper thinks back to what Kyon had told him, how Ryoko had talked like an extremist just before she attacked, along with the traitor girl's worrying comment, 'Someday, you might meet another interface that seeks radical change, or perhaps the one pulling Nagato's strings will change his mind.'

Haruhi re-enters before Koizumi can question this, Mikuru dressed in her battle-waitress outfit she wore for the amateur movie 'The Adventures of Mikuru Asahina.' This does not last, as Haruhi remembers that she has forgotten the coloured contact lens and pulls Mikuru back into the bathroom. Whilst they were causing a scene, Clarke was caught off-guard and received orders for the first time in centuries, ever since he was told to research and investigate humans. Due to his convenient proximity to Suzumiya and his unique 'power of suggestion'-esque powers, he is now officially ordered to support the auto-evolution theory and purposefully provoke Haruhi. In doing this, Nagato will be able to analyse the data output of each emotion, thus vastly increasing the pace of the investigation and bringing the Entity closer to the source of the data explosion. Koizumi, concerned that Clarke will upset Haruhi for the sake of his duty, asks what emotions he intends to trigger, to which the foreman replies, 'all of them.'

Haruhi returns with Mikuru, now in full cosplay of her heroine counterpart. Haruhi announces that they shall be using Mikuru as a 'mascot' (eye-candy) in order to raise funds for the club. Mikuru looks hopefully around for Kyon, still unaware of what happened the previous night at the festival, and asks after him. Haruhi is surprised by the name and asks Clarke if this 'Kyon' had transferred with him. Koizumi realises the truth behind Clarke's involvement in Kyon's sudden disappearance, as the foreman shrugs casually and passes the question to Koizumi. It seems that everyone in the world knows that Kyon is suddenly no longer present, apart from Haruhi.

Clarke starts debating with himself and reasons to start with the most likely feeling that a human could experience that would cause a surge of data; the feeling of being a god. The foreman gets an idea as he realises, from information reported to him from Nagato, that Haruhi was the director of the movie. This is the perfect chance, with a little of his help, for Haruhi to feel like she has control and extensive power over everything. Clarke is cunning, promising Haruhi that his phoney family will fund the SOS Brigade if Clarke gets the role of the antagonist in the sequel movie.

Haruhi is delighted by this, Clarke's work already in progress, and agrees to the contract, vowing that she will write down all of Clarke's extremely expensive contributions to the Brigade to serve as an example for the following generations of Brigade members. In a daring act of taunting Koizumi further, Clarke uses his powerful knowledge of human psychology to perfectly describe the events of the past four days from the esper's point of view whilst pretending to lay out a story board, accompanied with a foreboding omen of, '... and just when Koizumi thinks he has me worked out, just when he begins to trust me and thinks he knows all about me, I strike.' The esper is confused whether the foreman is continuing his teasing from earlier or is genuinely taunting him over the fact that he will eventually kill him.

Clarke disappears outside to 'make arrangements,' manipulating the salt he had used earlier to tell Koizumi that Kyon is safe. After Clarke returns, he triggers a feeling of excitement in Haruhi without using his powers. After all, Haruhi is ecstatic at this point, the routine would make little difference. Koizumi notices that, in the hours since Kyon's disappearance, Clarke's nature has changed; he doesn't seem as scared to let his guard down and have fun. Of course, it is only we, the readers, who know that the reason behind this is the liberation of Clarke's fear from Jack.

The Brigade stroll through the snowy, quiet town and into the park bordered by cherry blossoms, occasionally being ushered away from certain paths by an increasingly panicked Clarke. Following the now stationary group, a mother and her two young boys. Approaching them, an elderly couple. The aliens watched the latter group intensely, Clarke desperately trying to keep talking to Haruhi and watch the couple simultaneously. The old woman is suddenly amongst the group and grips Nagato's arm, agents of the Canopy Dominion that have recognised her as part of the opposing faction.

Clarke resorts to implanting the same 'trust' routine onto Haruhi he had used the first night they met, the girl wandering off and taking cover in a gazebo in a blissful absence. Clarke turns on the Dominion interfaces, who suddenly realise that in their haste to attack Nagato on Ahmed's orders, they neglected noticing the foreman standing right beside them. Clarke threatens them a little and plays his mind game; smiling and speaking in a very polite manner, before sending them on their way. As the Dominion interfaces think they have been showed mercy, they encounter the mother and two children.

Clarke permits his 'escort team' to use lethal force, snapping his fingers. The two children leap onto the elderly interfaces and restrain them as the mother uses her granted powers to delete them. After the deletion is finished, the children go back to their alias and play in the snow, leaving Koizumi to gawp at Clarke's brutal, merciless methods and perfect efficiency.

Koizumi pulls Clarke aside and asks why he did not simply delete the interfaces himself. Clarke admits that he was not originally designed for combat, his powerful data manipulation not apply to a situation like that. As the foreman puts it, 'I was originally just a scout, a researcher. I came here to learn, test, experiment and manipulate, but never to fight.' He admits that he could have destroyed the interfaces, but it was quicker to leave it to his escort team, who were designed for pure offense. Clarke then explains that to defeat a more powerful opponent, he would have to put them into the failsafe. From there, he could do whatever he pleased with them. However, this effective form of offense comes at a price; due to him not being built a fighter and simply using the failsafe as a weapon rather than mental manipulation, he needs to be looking directly into the target's eyes as if they weren't aggressive towards him.

Koizumi asks after how Clarke made Haruhi do as he said in a moment. The foreman explains his method of implanting a routine into the target that makes them replicate emotions. Then, after the routine wears off, the 'imprint' or 'suggestion' is still in the human's mind, making them more susceptible to following those emotions regarding Clarke of their own accord. Sadly, Haruhi isn't a girl who throws her trust around blindly, so both of Clarke's routines were forgotten by her personality after they had run their set course.

To summarise the summary; 'I operate by looking into the eye and planting suggestions, I kill by abducting the enemy and beating them in an unfair game.' He also warns Koizumi that, even though his abduction into the failsafe is his best method of defeating superior enemies, it is unwise to get in the way of his fist.

Meanwhile, the routines in Haruhi are decaying and she is returning to her normal self, trying to puzzle over the strange feeling that surrounds Clarke. She ponders what could possibly make her turn to mush in Clarke's embrace, but also tries to shake the feeling of forgetfulness, the effect of Clarke removing Kyon from the universe and wiping her memory. Clarke appears before her and hands her his gloves and Haruhi makes a mental note that, although he is still very much her friend, the Brit isn't giving off the same aura as when he took her in his arms.

The group continue their walk, Nagato waiting behind slightly to share her gloves with Clarke so she can hold his hand. Up ahead, Haruhi glances back and sees the two members holding hands in the snow and feels a rush of jealousy, going quiet as they continue to walk. Koizumi notices Haruhi's strange behaviour and questions Clarke, but the alien truthfully tells him that he hasn't done anything more to Haruhi. Clarke also notices that there is something odd through his perception of data and realises, with great excitement, that Haruhi is showing another emotion for him to document; jealousy. He also drops the hint that in her state, Haruhi has created Closed Space right there in the park, though without esper powers, they know she will not pass through it.

Koizumi sets of to destroy the shinji that dwell within the space, but Clarke catches his arm, only fully comprehending the severity of the situation: If Haruhi is jealous when looking at Clarke, that can only mean she has deep feelings for him, meaning that she is jealous of Nagato's closeness. And if a god-like teenage girl doesn't like something, said girl is bound to remove the thing that is causing distress; Nagato.

Koizumi goes to console Clarke, but the alien just sends I'm on his way to the Closed Space. Haruhi is too distracted to notice the esper boy running behind her and suddenly disappearing. Clarke asks Mikuru to attract Haruhi's attention, planning to eliminate the feeling of jealousy, and in doing so, saving Nagato from danger. As Mikuru catches up with Haruhi, Rébecca Giles slinks through the tree line and approaches Clarke and Nagato. Though she appeared confident, her basic motive was to beg Clarke to stop being so damn terrifying. Nagato warns Clarke of Giles' approach and Clarke sets his homicidal smile on, greeting Giles. Ever the cunning demon that he is, Clarke mentally bullies and threatens Giles to the point where, even in such close proximity to Haruhi, she was no threat.

Using his mind-altering manipulation, Clarke encapsulates Giles in a bubble of data and sets programmes of 'disinterest.' Any human to look at the bubble would be transmitted a signal of disinterest and instantly forget all about the sobbing girl in the snow. Clarke steels himself and holds Nagato close, vowing that he won't let Haruhi take her away. For the first time, there in the snow, he pledges his love for the lavender haired girl. They share their first, gentle kiss, Clarke dreading what he must do. He apologises. (And so he should.)

The POV switches to Haruhi and Mikuru, the former getting very annoyed at having to watch Clarke and Nagato so close. Clarke says something and shakes his head, pushing Nagato away. Nagato moves closer, hoping for another hug with the boy who proclaimed his love for her. Instead, Haruhi and Mikuru get a front-row seat to a surprisingly violent attack. Hoping to destroy Nagato's faith for him, Clarke slaps her and bellows in rage as Haruhi stands in shock.

Clarke storms past Haruhi and Mikuru, trying to keep his chin high, just as Koizumi destroys the shinji. The Closed Space collapses and Koizumi finds himself standing before an upset Clarke, a shocked Haruhi and Nagato and Giles sobbing. Koizumi goes to offer help, but Clarke proudly cuts him off, reminding him of their previous conversation; he is not Koizumi's ally. He will do his duty to protect, even if that means he must suffer and deal such emotional pain. When questioned how he could bring himself to do this, Clarke replies that no matter how confident and proud he acts, he still has to obey his masters, like a bird in a cage. He gestures that he will terrify a god, mentally crack a beautiful girl and emotionally crush the one he loves to protect those under his command. He also leaves the esper with a thought,

"What's your cage like?"

* * *

><p><span>Author's Notes<span>

Just to clarify, Clarke was able to handle the eight Elite Guard at the festival because they couldn't recognise him. Through that, he was able to repeatedly make eye contact with all of the interfaces and take them, body and mind, into the failsafe.

Haruhi, whilst trying to mask her attraction for Kyon, often uses the excuse, 'I'm a young woman, it's natural that I have needs.' However, with the combination of Clarke's well-practiced charm and the lack of Kyon, Haruhi's attraction has shifted onto him. Clarke is now not only trying to keep Kyon on the right track and outsmart a part of his own mind, but is also forced to keep Haruhi from doing anything rash.

Is that possible? Can the honourable, dutiful and love-crazy Clarke keep himself away from Yuki to save her whilst also refraining from toying with Haruhi's emotions and causing her to rip the universe in two? Probably not.

Were Clarke actions too much? Too radical?

To the sane human, yes, they probably were.

Clarke is neither of those things.

Bear in mind that he once before had something that he cared greatly about and his lax attitude got them destroyed. He will not make that mistake twice.

See you next time!


	8. For You, Death Sings

Indifferent. Silent. Watchful. Unchanging. Words of many that describe a foreman of the D.I.T.E. Well, they should. But I am greater than the rank-and-file grunts of the Entity's many branches. I am a researcher, a scientist, a wild slash of colour on a canopy of white. I completed my operations by having flair, drive and imagination, daring to push the boundaries of knowledge so that I might one day ascend to a being more wise and powerful than my superiors could ever hope to be. I wonder what life would be like if I was like Asakura? Would I ever have gotten out of London? Would Jack even exist? It was anger that made me defy the boundaries of my superiors, hot-headedness that pushed my research to new heights and rage that tore me from grace.

* * *

><p>"There's something beautiful about chess, isn't there?" Clarke murmured, half to Jack, half to himself. Jack choked a little, pushing himself off the chair and marching across the vastly vacant board, "You can never trust the enemy to be at a disadvantage. We taunt, bluff, sacrifice and slaughter, constantly working our blades closer to our enemy's heart." Clarke sighed as the face of darkness glared at him as it seated itself back on its throne. Clarke just smiled, cunning, mischievous, daring Jack to act rashly. The Victorian with the slash smile laughed,<p>

"You sound as old and as dull as father! Don't forget, Al, that you merely took pawns from me. Knights, rooks, bishops, monarchs... How do you intend to beat them all with that meagre team?" Jack fuelled his confidence and sounded more powerful, gazing at his pieces eagerly. Clarke sighed and turned back to Kyon,

"You did well, Kyon, but don't allow yourself to get sloppy." The Brit gestured to the door closest to Jack's side of the board, closest to one of the Elites who had tried to kill him not hours ago. As Kyon reached for the brass doorknob of the second door, a cold strip of metal rapped his wrist. He turned to find Jack, two eyes and a crescent moon shaded by his hat, smiling as the hook of his cane stopped Kyon from moving. The metal felt like it was burning hot, yet Kyon felt so numb.

"I think I know what you're going to find through there, human." His voice quivered as if he were barely keeping his laughter in, "Tell me, does Alistair over there look like a fighting man?" Kyon felt tetchy; he could tell from the way Jack talked that, even if Clarke hadn't told him about his alter-ego, Kyon would still hate him.

"What're you talking about?" Kyon waved his arm, unhooking the metal and glaring at Jack, "You're the one who's evil here!" The end of his sentence was barely heard, as Jack had already started laughing,

"Oh, how cute you humans are! How pitifully naive. You truly believe that the only time Alistair and I have done something terrible is when _I've_ been driving?" He laughed again, his teeth glaring from the black of the shadow, "I think you're about to see Alistair's true temper. True, he looks all smiles and charm, but he's as cold-blooded as I am. Maybe even more so." Jack winked and turned back to his throne, Kyon shooting a confused look to Clarke. The white-haired boy just shook his head, looking as if he wasn't sure how to respond. Kyon shrugged and let them get back to their game; the faster he got through this door, the quicker Clarke would win and the quicker he'd be able to leave this weird place. He opened the door and felt a cold breeze on his face and the smell of salt filled his nose. He shivered slightly and stepped into the damp, dark world, clicking the door closed behind him and snuffing out the light of the failsafe.

* * *

><p>Kyon shivered again as the slippery ground forced him to take a cautionary moment to adjust his eyes to the dark. He looked around him, finding that the door that had stood lonely in the forest was now the front door of a glass-front bakery, the black paint on the wooden frames peeling from the moisture that hung in the air. The ground was composed of hundreds of cobblestones, the bumpy street separating the squashed house, shops and Kyon from a railed drop. Seeing no one in the murky, misty air, Kyon trotted over the street and leaned over the railing, spying the dark waves below lapping at the wall. The sea? No, not the sea. A river. A wide, curling river that snaked through a sprawling city, the tall houses illuminated by the dim moon and mist. Not too far away, stretching out before Kyon, was a huge bridge, adorned and decorated by hundreds of extravagantly designed government buildings and a tall chapel in the centre. Kyon could make out hundreds of people in the bridge's buildings, dancing and drinking.<p>

Kyon jumped a little as the sound of scuffing feet bumbled its way through the fog. He watched the street as a chubby man stumbled about in the dark, a bottle clutched in his torn gloves. He leaned heavily on the railing beside Kyon and breathed in deeply, staring up at the teen through bleary eyes,

"You're not from around 'ere, are yeh?" he mumbled through broken, rotting teeth. Kyon shook his head unsurely and looked back to the bridge party, trying to show that he really didn't want to talk. The drunk didn't get the hint, "Oh, look at 'em all, in they fine suits, flappin' they gums about the workin' folk. Don' worry, ol' boy, even I washn't invited!" he slurred, his eyes wide in shock. Kyon pursed his lips tightly, trying to ignore the pungent smell of sweat the man gave off. A tough pair of hands took the man's shoulders and pulled him away from the railing. It was a young woman, who fixed the man with a disapproving glare,

"Father, have you any idea what time it is?" Her face was dirty and her hands rough from hard labour. The look of a woman who was used to dealing with drunks. The drunk blinked heavily a few times before clutching for Kyon's arm,

"'Ere, mate, don' suppose you've got any gentleman's brew, 'ave yeh?" The woman tutted and pulled the man onto the empty street, reaching for Kyon as her father bumbled and giggled in the dark,

"I'm very sorry, sir. I 'ope he didn't cause you any trouble." Kyon waved and shook his head politely, surprised when the girl gave a little curtsey and began leading her father away. Kyon watched them go, contemplating the oddly... normal world that he'd ended up in. The fog quickly swallowed up the two, but their voices still carried from the swirling white curtain.

"Ere, Clarabelle, iss' 'im! Awright, 'gov? I woulda fought you'd be down at the party?" The man's daughter, Clarabelle, hissed something at him and slapped his arm.

"Sorry about that, your lordship. My father's been drinking like a hound again. You're looking sharp tonight, sir. Will you be going to the party?" Kyon took a moment to relax, feeling the cold sea air caress his neck, listening to the gently lapping waves and the strangely charming accent of the locals. What kind of emotion of Clarke's could possibly be held hostage by Jack in such a charming place? He turned back to the mist, slightly confused, when he heard no response from the 'lord' whom the woman was talking to.

Silent as a wraith, a figure emerged from the dark street, the white air curling and parting before him. His cane tapped rhythmically as he meandered towards Kyon in silence, his pointed leather shoes shining with polish. Kyon froze, the metal railing in his hands suddenly very real. If Ahmed was in the last world, was Jack himself in this one?

"She was referring to your clothes, you know." The figure's voice... could it be? "She could see by the ruff that you weren't part of the common rabble." Kyon looked down, not as surprised as he would normally be to find that he was wearing a ruffed shirt and jacket, along with an expensive pair of trousers and shoes. A suit not too dissimilar to what the figure was wearing. Kyon laughed a little to himself; maybe this door wouldn't be as stressful as the last. Maybe the only thing holding this Clarke here was his lack of drive to ever leave.

"Um, you are Alistair, right?" Kyon asked cautiously, further relieved when the figure turned to him, Clarke's eyes and white hair reflecting the moonlight. Atop his wooden cane was a small azure topaz, which he reached up to doff his top hat,

"Greetings, Kyon. I am Lord Alistair Clarke, heir to the Clarke family business and fortune." The boy's white skin and shirt were bright in the moonlight, his skinny frame covered and bulked by a heavy trench coat that descended to his ankles. It may have just been the light of the moon casting shadows, but Clarke looked glum, his eyes not fully open and his smile non-existent.

"So, what do I need to do to get you out of here? Seems like you have a pretty sweet life." Clarke didn't hear him. He was too busy staring over the water with silent eagerness.

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down," He raised his shoe and climbed gracefully to the top of the railing, balancing eerily well, as if he belonged there. His singing was like a siren's; perfect, yet terrible. He flicked the topaz on his cane with his thumb, the azure gem swinging on a hinge and revealing a small red button beneath that looked out of place. "London Bridge is falling down, my, fair, lady." He finished the nursery rhyme and clicked the button. Kyon saw the effect before he heard it; bright flashes of light, blooms of flame bursting into the night, dimming the bright windows on the bridge in comparison. Violent explosions on either end of the bridge sent huge chunks of stone and concrete spiralling into the darkness and crashing into the city streets. People in their masses fled for the nearest mainland, skidding to a halt as they realised the sudden blast had isolated them on the bridge.

"Oh my," Clarke mumbled with only a hint of interest, stepping down from the railing, "How terrible. I guess it's lucky that no one was hurt." Kyon turned to him in shock and found that Clarke was examining the topaz atop his cane with interest. "Life is a game, Kyon. A game that you have no real control of. A tiring and endless game played by the fickle fates, a game that brings it endless joy." Clarke wrapped his slender glove around the gem and pulled hard, the gem showing little resistance as its hinges snapped and came free in the teen's hand. He showed it to Kyon, who realised that carved into the cut gemstone were numbers, one through six. A dice? Clarke closed his fist and began to shake it, a grin breaking on his face,

"The dice decides the lives of those unfortunate enough to be involved. Lives of tedium, misery, deceit, joy, riches, lust, freedom, slavery, corruption, mourning, it matters not to the god who rolls this dice. The game of life binds us all, Kyon, puppeting us with invisible strings, setting us on pre-laid rails like the ants we are. Those people on that bridge, they are nothing but dirt to me. They are just a collection of fools who like to play god, rolling the dice and forcing others to take the fall. Happiness, sorrow, it's all just a one-in-six." Clarke tipped his hand, the gem cracking off the hard ground and skittering away. It stopped in the darkness, but the azure stone began to glow, a 3 burning bright blue. "Three, eh?" Clarke mumbled, retrieving the stone and cradling it to his chest, grinning at its glow, "A most evil number. But that doesn't matter to us, does it, Kyon? We, whose turn it is to play god and judge those who are beneath us." Kyon didn't get a chance to respond to the mad ramblings of Clarke, the wave of heat and shrieks hitting him hard. He span and looked back to the bridge. Streaks of flame staggered about in distance, shrieks and screams echoing though the city as the flailing fireworks flung themselves into the dark waters below with harsh hisses of steam.

"C- Clarke!" Kyon gasped, "Wh- What the hell is wrong with you? What did you do to those people?" Kyon turned to look at Clarke, but he was no longer standing on the railing. But something else did catch his eye; the first blast on the bridge had shifted some of the heavy fog, clearing the promenade around Kyon. Their necks curved to an almost comical angle, the father and daughter Kyon had talked to not minutes ago lay dead in the street, soon engulfed by mist once again. Kyon turned again and found the trench coat was already walking away, following the sea wall to the bridge. Clarke moved with an eerie speed, yet so gracefully. A fleeting nightmare, gliding through the night.

"The dice rolled, Kyon. Chance punishes them. I am just the instrument. Don't feel bad for them, human; they're awful, disgusting people, every last one of them. They don't deserve your pity." They reached the edge of the bridge surprisingly quickly, the curious that had gathered by one end of the broken bridge bowing and stepping aside at the sight of Clarke, going silent as the smell of burnt flesh slithered over the water. Kyon watched at Clarke's side in horror as a man dragged himself to the broken edge of the bridge, his angular face deformed and scarred by the flames that had failed to kill him.

"Lord Clarke!" he hoarsely called, "Please, fetch help!" Clarke removed his top hat, removed the topaz and dropped it into the tall fabric, looking irritated as the crowd was silent. Why did they just stare?

"You don't appear to understand the game, Lord Brunswick, you're not following the script. No matter, my sir, no matter, because you have persevered! You have fought through the misfortune of the dice and champed life itself!" The man was panting, groaning in pain, too dazed to understand what was being said. "Interestingly enough, it's your turn again!" Clarke's hat became still and Kyon watched the bright blue illumination light up Clarke's gleeful face, sharing Pandora's childish excitement as she opened her box. He began to laugh, "Oh my, a five! Looks like it's time for me to make my entrance. Oh, how I love this part!" Clarke reassembled his cane, bent his legs and leaped into the air, his hat and coat falling into the water below. He landed soundlessly on the other side as Lord Brunswick doubled to his knees, coughing and retching up blood.

Clarke was wearing only a white shirt and a black waistcoat beneath his trench coat, making him look like some kind of demented butler as he placed his cane behind his shoulders and started to stretch like an athlete. Brunswick crawled over to the boy, the right side of his head tight and red from the sudden scorching. He clutched at Clarke's leg, reaching his right hand up in desperation. Clarke smiled calmly down at him and took his wrist, but didn't move. He brought his face low, looking into the man's face, "Disgusting rodent. You're the one who tried to topple the Clarke family empire, aren't you? And for what? The glory of a woman who hated you." Brunswick didn't get a chance to respond. Kyon gasped with the rest of the audience as Clarke placed his shoe on the man's shoulder and, with little effort, tore his whole arm from the socket. Brunswick barely made a noise, too much shock and too much damage to his larynx for him to truly voice the pain he was feeling, staring up at the blood-spattered boy who clutched his arm.

"You filthy," Clarke swung the arm, the hand striking its master hard and sending Brunswick to the floor, "Vile. Corrupt. Despicable APE!" Clarke bellowed, punctuating each word with another strike. He let loose a flurry of swings, beating the croaking and pleading man to death with his own limb. After ten seconds, the man had gone still, his blood pooling on the bridge. Clarke was still, silent. As was Kyon. As were the crowds on the bridge and off the bridge. No one moved a muscle.

Clarke cocked his head and turned to the party-goers, their numbers vastly reduced since the spontaneous fire. "Boo." Clarke muttered. Chaos ensued. Every person who gazed upon the scene turned and ran, charging back into the gloriously built buildings, trampling and tripping each other just to get away that bit faster. "Excuse me," Clarke called with disappointment, "It's not very nice to leave in the middle of a game!" The stragglers of the crowd bustled through the doorway of the closest building in the precession, slamming the great wood and metal doors closed. Even from the other side of the broken bridge, Kyon could see the occupants scrambling to stack chairs and tables before the windows and door.

"Awful, isn't he?" Kyon jumped so much, he nearly toppled into the Thames. He looked to the voice and found that the crowd behind him had disappeared, and in their place was a girl and a boy. The boy was a little short, his mousy hair dark in the dim light and his strong jaw sharp in the shadow. He watched Clarke with something akin to condescendence, but the foreman was still watching the terrified civilians within the lit halls with amusement. The girl was the one who had spoken, taller than her counterpart and much more noticeable. She was so much like the future Asahina; Kyon swooned by simply looking at her, at the hair darker than the sky and eyes that captured the light. But that was not was peculiar about them. Rather, it was the shackles around their wrists and ankles. Long, thin pieces of cast-iron metal holding their bony wrists, the rusting metal leading far away, down through the twisted streets and tall, cramped buildings, lit by flickering paraffin lamps.

"Alistair has been through so much, human. He has seen things that no one should ever see and experienced trauma that has broken his mind. Even if he were to nullify the link to his organic body and rebuild himself a thousand times, he will never truly be the same. Please, human, don't hate Alistair. He never wanted to harbour this hatred, but his long existence has been cruel, both in his organic form and as data. It has made him bitter and resentful, forced upon him such a maddening desire for revenge and destruction that he can seem evil at times." The mousy haired boy sighed and shook his head sadly,

"This is never what he wanted to be." Kyon heard the crack of the azure dice landing on hard ground and turned to the bridge. Resting on the dark cobble shone the gem, sending Clarke into a laughing fit. The white haired boy dropped to his knees and clutched his belly, laughing until he silenced himself. He rolled onto his back and pounded his fists, trying to regain his breath as he bathed in Brunswick's blood.

"Truly, life is a cruel thing." Clarke muttered to the dice on the floor. He took the cane is his hand, gave it a twist and pulled, the metal grinding softly as he produced a sword from the cane. What few faces could see the bloody boy from the window began screaming silently, pointing in panic, the crowds within trying to shunt their way further along the bridge buildings. Clarke gripped the hilt of the short sword and his laughter ceased. He took a few shaky breaths and looked down at the slim blade in his hands, "Liar, thief, schemer, traitor, my hand shall punish without discrimination. You brought this upon yourself." he whispered. He brought the blade above his head and slashed across the air. Kyon was a fool for assuming that he was just preparing himself. As the blade sliced through the air, an invisible force cleaved the third storey of the first building in two, the fourth and fifth floors toppling down and crashing before the alien boy. Amidst the dust, rubble, screaming and half-bodies, coughing survivors from the upper floors struggled to their feet, gazing at Clarke in horror.

"You..." gasped one of the women, her bent and crushed leg showing beneath her dress, "Lord Clarke, I... What are you?" Clarke considered the woman lying amongst the rubble for a moment before testing the sharpness of his blade, running the gleaming metal over his finger and drawing blood.

"I? I'm just another player, Mrs. Hillary. A player who has rolled the dice again and again, ever suffering for the sake of gaining the lead. But you, Miss. Hillary, have been very fortunate." Clarke's hand gripped the hilt of his cane sword tighter, his knuckles threatening to tear open, "What right do you have? Why does the dice favour _you_?" Clarke met the woman's eye and she saw his bloodshot eyes and furious snarl, a face that only held hatred for her, "Why does a liar, a manipulator and a thief get granted all the wealth and happiness she could ever ask for whilst I am left behind?! What is it about me that this dice hates? Tell me! Tell me, why I must live a life of suffering, why must this game punish me over and over again whilst you cheat and lie and get granted everything you wish?!" The woman began to scream and struggle as Clarke strode through the dying and the dead, rubble turning to dust in his path as his shoes ploughed through the destruction with ease. No amout of shouting, pleading or threatening could slow the boy. He walked, he swung, he killed. The woman was dead before she hit the floor. What surviving guests remaining outside were battering the barricaded door, screaming to their partners, friends and relatives for help. The door stayed closed. Clarke shook his head in disbelief.

"Wretches, the lot of you!" he bellowed whilst the crowd battered the door and windows desperately, "I have bled and killed for my friends! You have no right to the lives you live!" The girl beside Kyon quietly asked Clarke to stop, to turn around, but there was no way her voice would carry to the boy over the pleas of the upper class Londoners. Clarke ran his tongue the length of the short sword in his hand and took off at a sprint. Within seconds, a flurry of glinting steel, fiery eyes and darkening hair had laid waste to a dozen people, creating a crimson path over the dark bridge, painting the wooden door with slashes of red. In the chaos as the crowd realised the crazed killer was amongst them, the injured and the desperate rushed for the railings, hurling themselves into the waters below. Clarke took a moment to rest, gazing around and taking in the smell of sea salt, blood and flesh in the shine of the moon. Kyon turned to the girl and the boy beside him,

"Who are you two? You never told me your names." The mousy haired boy watched Clarke for a few more seconds before turning to Kyon,

"That's because we were never issued with one, human. As for who we are... We are the fault. We are Alistair Clarke's greatest achievement and his greatest mistake. It is because of us, human, that Alistair Clarke was turned into a monster." Kyon never got to ask anything more. The boy and the girl stood side by side and stepped into the air, walking the gap of the destroyed bridge as if the stone was still there. "Sir!" called the boy, loud enough to hear. Clarke wheeled with a smile, blood smearing his pale skin,

"Did you call me, Ky..." He drifted off mid-sentence, losing a little of his breath as he spotted the two children. He smile strained for a moment before he turned, shaking his head a little as if trying to clear away a nightmare. "No... No, I... I must be hearing things." he muttered, starting when a chunk of stone suddenly rolled next to him. A single scratched and dusty hand planted itself on the ground and the arm strained, hauling its owner from the heavy stone. It was an old man, scratches on his scalp leaking blood into what little iron grey hair he had left, his moustache in twisted tatters as he heaved the stones from his wheezing chest. He spotted the surprised boy and reached his hand for him,

"Alistair... Hel... Help me... Come and help me, boy!" he panted. Clarke stood and looked at him as if not believing what he was seeing. The cane sword dropped to the floor with a clatter and Clarke started to tremble, taking a shaky step forwards to the old man,

"You," he breathed, reaching for the man, "My father." He gave no smile as he took the man's hand, "My dearest father is asking me for help." The old man grinned as the teen's pale hand began to pull him from the rubble, but his face clouded with a frown when Clarke stopped. "You've got some nerve." Alistair's free fist crushed the man's nose with ease, sending him back into the rubble with ease. Clarke blinked heavily, his nose crooked and leaking blood, but Alistair wasn't finished. He hauled the man's surprisingly intact body from the rubble with one arm and crashed him back to the floor. "This is your fault! You're the reason! They're dead because of you!" He stomped onto the man's chest hard and screamed into his face, "If it wasn't for you, they never would have died! If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be _this_! I could've been _happy_!" He kneeled on the man's chest and hammered his fists blindly at any part of the old man he could reach, screaming unintelligible words as the man's pitiful flailing got slower.

Kyon watched on in awe, but he couldn't shake a strange feeling of calmness. Perhaps it was because he knew that none of this was truly real was the reason he was able to watch the old man's legs finally stop moving, his twisted arms and the remains of his exposed and broken skull barely twitching. Clarke coughed and wheezed, trying to gain his breaths as he tried to swat the pieces of skull and grey matter from his knuckles and elbows. The girl looked back to Kyon and made a small gesture with her hand. Kyon didn't hear any incantations nor did he feel any movement, but a moment later he found that he had traversed the four metre gap to the bridge the explosives had caused. The girl called softly, "Sir?" Clarke stood and picked up his sword, staring down at it with intent,

"These people are now beginning to see what a true nightmare life can be, Kyon. Only now, after full lives of corruption and holding masses beneath their boots like dogs, do they taste the cruelty of the game of life and the merciless dice. Did you see the look in their eyes, Kyon? They knew that I was going to kill them, and they tried to run. They think that they can outrun me." He nodded his head, still considering the sharp edge of the cane sword in his palm, "Maybe they can. But no one, human, no one can outrun the game of life. The only way out of this game, this nightmare," Clarke strode to the door and rapped his knuckles on the tall wooden panels, the huge door breaking in half with the force of a cannon, sending razor splinters through all those unlucky enough to be behind it, "Is in a coffin." Staring from the dark bridge into the hall of screams, Clarke gripped the hilt of his sword so hard, his skin started to tear, a little blood trickling into his palm. He lowered his voice to a whisper that only he could hear, "But I won't go out that way. I'm stronger than that. I'll show them all who is the stronger man. I'll show them all that no matter what they throw at me, I won't break. I... I can't."

Clarke ignored the swelling in his throat and the sting in his eyes. Instead, he focused on what these people were. War mongers that sent him to reap and destroy life forms of a totally different race. Tyrants who sent him to lay waste to those who he had once called allied. The constant back-stabs and betrayals, all of the venom aimed at him, the knife, rather than the higher-ups who wielded him. And then there was the humans. They were just as bad. The memories of all of those who had begged him to stay his hesitant hand as his 'leaders' ordered him to kill, it fuelled him, set a fire in his belly as he strolled through the door. Every swing of his blade, the sweet feeling of resistance against the primitive weapon, it all gave his organic mind a sense of pleasure. He looked into the eyes of every person who had ever made him do something evil against his will and simply laughed as their begging, bargaining and even sacrificing was cut short in a single flash of steel.

But there was that voice again. The disappointed one, floating to his ears over the din of those left alive in the dance hall, so quiet, yet louder than the sobbing and the begging and even the sound of the most desperate of them trying to unlock the next door. He began to turn, beginning to see the glimpses of movement in the darkness. They walked slowly, side by side. That jaw, those eyes, the skin... No... He mustn't look.

As the boy and the girl walked through the littered corpses and into the dance hall, gentle dragging their seemingly endless chains with them, Kyon watched Clarke twitch his way around, seeming to try and ignore the boy and the girl. But every now and then, his eyes would flutter and dart wildly, flinching and jumping every time his eyes grazed the two children. The alien growled something to himself, kicked over a few bodies and finished the survivors who attacked the door without comment, the glee he showed before already gone.

"Why should you get to be happy?" he asked the door before him. He placed his hand against the door and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and focusing. Kyon stepped tentatively forwards, keeping pace with the slowly approaching children who waded through the pools of blood and twitching bodies. This was Clarke? This was what the alien thought about and desired? This room painted in blood, the begging for mercy and the heavy scent of burnt flesh was the life that he had known? Suddenly, hands started to batter and slap at the door from the other side as Clarke breathed slowly. They were trying to get out? The sounds started to climb the door and the panicked shouting was smothered, as if the crowd were ascending stairs to the upper floors of the buildings. Soon, there was nothing but silence. Kyon and the children had stopped a few yards short of Clarke, who didn't turn around to greet them. Instead, he just brushed his fingers against the door lock and stepped back. The metal gave a little click and the door suddenly burst open. Kyon recoiled as a shelf of sand poured through, flooding Clarke up to his waist in the golden flood. A limp hand protruded from the shelf that blocked the doorway, the owner either crushed, suffocated or under too much pressure to even move. Clarke ignored it and waded through the flood, ascending through the doorway as sure-footed as a mountain goat. The young boy tugged Kyon's sleeve,

"You're here to help him escape, aren't you?" Kyon nodded and the boy frowned, "Well... That's not going to be easy. See, Alistair doesn't _want_ to leave. Well, Alistair's rage doesn't want to leave. I'm afraid Jack is holding the rage here by offering it illusions that make the foreman angry, like a... almost like a stray dog who knows that if he returns to a specific house, he'll get fed."

"Alright, so how do we calm him down? Is there any way you can help?" The boy frowned further and lifted his arms, showing the chains,

"We can't go further than this bridge, I'm afraid. Jack knows that if we could only talk to the rage, we could soothe him, and so he's chained us to the city. I'm afraid this is about as far as we can go, so we'll wait for you. If you find another way to get the rage free, please try your best. If not," he pointed out of the door, to the dark, broken bridge and the winding streets, "There is our home. If you can lead the rage to the place with the two lamps and the two alleys, he can be freed. For now, at least, we will walk with you a little longer." There was something about the mousy haired boy that made Kyon feel odd. It wasn't the peculiar way he walked on his toes, nor his strong face... It was the look in the children's eyes. A sad dullness hidden somewhere in their expressions, as if they could barely bring themselves to face the slaughter.

A gentle rush of sand caught Kyon's attention, a few grains spilling onto his shoes. He lead the way up the sand hill, his footing slipping and planting his chin into the steep hill that dominated the room. When he finally reached a flat summit near the high chandelier, he caught a mouthful of spraying sand. He frantically spat and swatted at his tongue to get the grains out, but the two children that followed were intent on watching the fighting. Clarke, his cane sword lost or buried somewhere, boxed with a lanky man who towered over him, his long, skinny arms throwing his large fists around like they were boulders. Clarke panted and laughed as the heavy, bony fists bounced off his forearms easily,

"I remember the last time you tried to overthrow me, Nozomu!" he breathed, turning the tables and beginning to throw rapid high-kicks up into the towering Nozomu's chest, "Sadly, a lowly peon like you might have been able to poison my most trusted captains, but you shall never, EVER outsmart me!" Clarke leaped up slightly so he was face to face with Nozomu and his movements became a blur, the tall man's hollow body shuddering with thumps and cracks as Clarke's knees, elbows and fists rushed at him without slowing. Over on the other side of the sand summit, Kyon spotted another pair of hazel eyes handing behind two dark hands, barely bring themselves to watch Nozomu's beating. A girl? Alive and, furthermore, staying? Clarke suddenly dropped back to the ground and swept a barely conscious Nozomu's legs from beneath him with a triumphant grunt.

"How does it feel, Nozomu? How does it feel to know that, no matter how many of my people you kill, you will never shake me? How does it feel to know that you could strike me for eons and I would never have a scratch?" Clarke raised his shoe, now polished with blood, and prepared to bring it down on Nozomu's throat, but a scream cut him off.

"No!" screeched the girl, rushing forwards and throwing herself over Nozomu's battered form, "Please, stop! Please, I'll do anything you want, just please don't take him from me!" Clarke's lip curled and his face worked furiously,

"You think you deserve him? You think either of you deserve anything after what you did? You _betrayed_ me! You stabbed me in the back and tried to sell me off to the Dominion!" He brought down his palm and slapped the young woman, setting her dark skin a tinge of crimson, but she stayed her ground, "Do you have any idea what _I_ did to reclaim the eastern suns? Do you have _any_ idea of what I and hundreds of your brothers and sisters sacrificed to gain that one piece of ground?! You're asking me to spit on their graves and grant you mercy?! How dare you?!" He brought up his boot and stomped on the girl's arm hard, making her scream. "How dare you put yourself above the rest like that?! You sick creature! What disgusts me more is that you think that I should allow you two to be happy after what you did to me and all of your comrades?" The girl's limp attempted to tremble a reply, but screamed a little more when Clarke put more force on his heel, "It amuses me that you think you can use yourself as a bargaining chip to appease me. The only thing that could possibly bring you atonement," He released the pressure from his boot, bringing a shaky smile to the girl's face. It quickly disappeared when the foreman's cane sword materialised in his hand, "Is death." The girl and Nozomu barely choked out a sound before their heads began to bump and roll down the sand slope, yet more voices extinguished on this moonlit bridge, in these exquisite halls. Kyon dragged himself to the top of the sand hill and lay his hand on Clarke's blood-soaked shoulder,

"Hey, um, Clarke? Do you think that you could... Uh, come with me?" Clarke raised a suspicious eyebrow, "See, there's a couple of people that'd like to talk to you." Clarke's smile dropped and he gulped, staring down at the floor without comment. "So... Will you go?" The alien took Kyon's wrist and opened his palm, Kyon surprised to find the topaz had found its way to him.

"My turn is up. Now it is your turn to roll the dice and toy with life itself. Go on, Kyon. Just drop it and determine how fate shall dance. Maybe it'll bring you fortune, maybe I'll be the one rewarded, who knows?" Clarke started to twist Kyon's hand slowly, "To ruin another's life with a single move... Terrifyingly easy, isn't it? So easy, it's almost comedy." Kyon was reluctant to let go of the topaz, fearing the consequences. Would Clarke turn on him? Would he be made to kill? He didn't have long to mull over the consequences on Clarke's sudden front, as the alien jolted his wrist and the gemstone fell onto the sand. Just as before, the etched number that faced up at them glowed brightly.

"So I rolled a one." Kyon said aloud, "So, what, do I get a free house? A free car with a chauffeur?" Clarke chuckled,

"Human indulgences. Such innocent desires. No Kyon, you don't get a car or a house. You get something much more impressive. Come, let's get to somewhere higher." Clarke led the way, sliding down the sand hill and heaving open one of the windows. After a little digging, the two boys could squeeze themselves through the gap, the sand spilling through and draining through a metal safety grate. Kyon felt a little uneasy, sliding out of the sand room and nearly toppling right over a low safety rail into the oil black river below. The wind was non-existent, thankfully, due to the tall buildings, allowing Clarke to lead Kyon along the outside edges of the precession without trouble, their path illuminated by the shining windows at their side. Every now and then, a party-goer would spot the two boys drift into the light of their window and scream and point, but by the time they had gotten attention, they were already by the next building. "Up here," Clarke pointed to a precarious ladder leading up the side of a chapel that sat proudly on the centre of the bridge. They climbed up into the dark, Kyon's heart bounding as he missed several rungs in the darkness. The cold wind air that surrounded the river froze his fingers and bit at his cheek as he and Clarke finally reached the slanted roof.

"Come on!" Clarke called over the wind that could suddenly reach them, crouching slightly to keep himself from falling, "Just a little further and we'll be there!" He pointed behind him as Kyon wobbled to his side, his eyes settling on a steeple that blocked out the moon. Kyon gritted his teeth and moaned under his breath as the wind tried to hurl him off balance; maybe he could just tell the kids to wait at the side of the chapel and just shove Clarke off. Clarke led them across the damp, cold roof and to the bell tower. With a few wobbly knocks, Clarke's fist smashed a small rabbit hole into the stone tower's spiralling staircase. Kyon crawled in after him, thankful to be out of the open air. Their echoing footsteps and the whistle of the wind that slipped through the angled shutters all around them as they ascended the tower, eventually reaching the bell room. The huge metal instrument loomed over their heads as Clarke started to rip the shutters down on one side, revealing the as of yet untouched side of the bridge, still brimming with people who could only sit and wait, hoping that someone in the empty city would come to their aid. Clarke flexed his wrist, the air shimmering slightly as his cane sword materialised in his grip. Without a word, he sat precariously on the edge of the broken shutters and looked over the city, the wind snapping his trousers about his shins. He carefully took hold of the blade and offered the hilt to Kyon,

"Go on, human, it's your turn. Think of the power we now wield after the dice has favoured us for once in our miserable lives!" Kyon resisted the urge to snap back at Clarke that his life wasn't miserable, but remembered the smell of death and the blood plastered to every inch of Clarke's skin and make a quick decision to bite his tongue. Kyon took the sword from Clarke, surprised at its weight, but there was something wrong with this weapon; his hand tingled and his breath picked up, as if he were about to-

"Laugh?" Clarke interrupted his train of thought as Kyon looked to him, "It's glorious, isn't it? This is the power that was wielded by those who now lay dead. Go on, try it out." Part of Kyon wanted to drop the sword, throw it from the bell tower and hurl Clarke down with it, but he couldn't; some primitive part of his mind enjoyed holding the short sword, couldn't help but get a kick from knowing its power as Kyon looked over the untouched half of the bridge. He brought it to his face as Clarke watched with interest from the shadow. He had to examine it, he had to know every curve, every edge it had to offer. He wondered what sound it made, how it smelled, what it would feel like to swing it and cleave Clarke's grin from his face. With shaking hands, he raised it to his lips and gently blew along the cutting edge, chuckling unintentionally as the metal rang in his hands. Clarke's mouth fell open into a disbelieving smile as he peered through the wooden shutters that hid the buildings-turned-graveyards.

"Amazing. Simply amazing." he muttered to himself quietly. Kyon pulled his attention away from the sword in his hand and followed Clarke's lead. He could only see a fraction of the dark city, clearly nothing to get excited about. Whatever Clarke was seeing, it was non-existent to Kyon. "I remember these nights." Clarke spoke up, "The nights when the sound of droning war machines silenced my piano and light illuminated my sweet home." Kyon fixed Clarke with a questioning look, but he was still peering out into the darkness with a shark grin, "I remember the endless nights when London burned." Kyon opened his mouth to question Clarke, more of when he was going to stop these incoherent ramblings than trying to escape this world, when he too heard the 'droning.' It was faint, but such a bass sound that Kyon was surprised he hadn't heard it sooner. The dull metal of the old bell behind them flashed slashes of orange as light popped in the distance and slipped through the shutters.

"Wait... Is that what I think it is?" asked Kyon, pointing to the sky as the droning went over their heads. Clarke moved to the broken shutter and watched the peaceful city. Well, it had been peaceful; now, bright shafts of light sliced into the night and swivelled madly, illuminating the low hanging clouds and the dark figures high above. The bird-like shapes slowly glided over head, hundreds of them, singing like a swarm of locusts.

"Indeed." Clarke confirmed, smiling into the night sky as a high-pitched squeal began to get louder, "The Blitz begins, Kyon. Our crusade against the injustice of those in government is moving quickly." As the squealing was finally upon them, Kyon watched as the ground just on the other side of the bridge exploded and toppled into the river. The next bomb was more precise, hammering into a rooftop and taking out most of the buildings, throwing what looked worryingly like a bed onto the cobblestone streets. Clarke began to laugh, louder and louder, as the fleet of bombers rained down ordnance, moving further and further over the untouched and silent city, the booms getting fainter. It was the heady sense of adrenaline at the destruction he was witnessing that snapped Kyon back to reality; he had a job to do. He couldn't allow himself to indulge in the destruction that had trapped Clarke's rage.

Clarke had to look away, staring hard at the pointed ceiling that housed the bell, trying to control his breathing. The sound of the metal shell slamming into the depths of the city, the screams of the unseated officials and crumbling of stone like music to his ears. He closed his eyes, head still tilted back, and took a few slow breaths. His heart beating slower in his chest, his lungs moving in synchronicity, experiencing it all whilst the symphony continued was oddly therapeutic. However, as his heartbeat returned to its normal pace, the whistling of a bomb seemed a little too... loud. He opened his eyes and looked around. Kyon was gone. Clarke stood quickly and descended the first few steps of the bell tower and peered out onto the slanted rooftop. His heart skipped and beat and his eyes burst open as he spotted the human on the other side of the roof, half of his body already descending the ladder. But what was really concerning Clarke was the shining blade that was pointed straight at him. His jaw dropped as he looked up at the hollow bell, the ringing now so much louder.

Clarke bellowed to the ceiling, "Kyon, you sneaky bast-" The bomb smashed through the roof, severed the bell cord and exploded right in front of Clarke. The heavy metal bell clanged impossibly loudly as the tower collapsed, throwing its guts onto the buildings and river below. As Kyon flinched from the sound, he caught a glimpse of Clarke; just a flash of dull white and red hurtling through the air, disorganized and inelegant. Without missing a beat, Kyon slid down the ladder as fast as he could manage and took off for the edge of the bridge, listening to the confused buzz of conversation as he passed the rooms that still contained the living and holding his breath as he skirted the final few that housed only the dead. There, lying in a crumpled heap beside Brunswick's mutilated body, was Clarke. His left leg was lying at an odd angle, like it was too long for his body. Kyon made his way over, the light from the open door illuminating and blinding the alien as he came to.

Clarke's ears were ringing so loud and his head roared, he felt like the explosion had only gone off in his head. He tried to open his stinging eyes and winced as the blurry world span into focus. There was a silhouette before him, looming over him, a sword in hand. A bolt of pain hammered into his hip and he felt down to his busted leg. How? Why?

"Kyon, you swine!" he wheezed to the silhouette, "Fine, to hell with you! You don't think that I've dealt with a backstab before?" Clarke grabbed his knee and pulled it hard, his leg popping loudly back into his hip. Clarke didn't give anything away as he stood up straight, arms wide, "Come on, then! Let history repeat itself! Attack me, you damn coward! I'll kill you like I killed the rest!" Clarke snapped his fingers, opened his palm and waited. And waited. After half a minute, he realised something was wrong. He sighed, "Where's the bloody dice gone?!"

"You know, for all your pomp and self-pity about being the underdog in this dumb little game, you yourself don't seem to know very much about the rules." Kyon felt oddly powerful as Clarke gawped angrily at him, eyeing the cane sword still in his hands, "I bet even Koizumi would be able to beat you in a game of Othello." Clarke grinded his teeth together,

"Give me that dice, human," he growled, "before I strap rocks to your wrists and dump you in the Thames!" Kyon shrugged,

"Can't." He replied simply. Clarke sucked in a breath to roar something at him, but Kyon already knew what he was going to reply with, "See, it's not your turn." Clarke hesitated, looking suddenly cautious. Kyon pointed over Clarke's shoulder to the devastated city, "It's theirs."

Clarke turned to stare down the winding street, watching the single street and bordering buildings that alone stood amongst the chaos of smoking fires and rubble. Even over the rush of the river and the gently popping fires, Kyon could hear the rustling of metal and the whoosh of wind. A small, metallic sliver rounded the corner of houses and lingered in the middle of the cold street, slithering until the two boys could only just make out the chain. Like an angry python, the endless chain coiled of its own accord and sprang into flight, flashing over the broken bridge connection at extreme speeds and spinning around Clarke's ankle. The alien yelped and dropped to the floor, tugging at the chain that tightened around him.

"The hell did you do?!" Clarke screamed to Kyon before slamming onto his back as the chain started to reel him in. He flailed and pulled at the metal links, but they didn't give to his incredible strength. He fell down the broken gap of the bridge, the chain snapping taught as his body swung and hit the support beneath. Kyon took a run and leaped the gap, feeling a little proud of himself when he cleared the gap. The chain chugged on, pull, pause, pull, pause, slowly dragging Clarke back up to the road. Kyon took a moment to look around at the levelled city, strangely intruded on by the untouched row of buildings that coursed further inland. Kyon walked slowly alongside the tugging chain, following it to its source. As he strolled absently past the strangely untouched row of houses, the poor occupants of the endless fields of devastation behind them started to emerge. A man wearing only a pair of torn trousers stumbled into the street, grabbed a chunk of rubble and hurled it into the nearest painfully clean window, ruining the image. A scream and the sound of barking erupted from the dark depths of the house as the man clambered in and disappeared. Kyon's mind wandered gently back to the sword as Clarke was awkwardly tugged on, bellowing all the while. He wondered what it would be like to go back there and take the house apart floor by floor, feel the slight resistance as the singing blade easily cut through hard stone.

Up ahead, a small girl stumbled from between two houses and collapsed on the pavement, sobbing desperately. As Kyon and Clare passed by, she weakly held out a hand to Kyon. A plea. The last resort of a frightened child. The two passed her by. Kyon didn't feel a thing. A quick wheezing caught up to him and rasped in his ear. He slowly turned around to find a vicar, still wearing his priestly gown. His face was covered in black powder burns and his right eye bounced from his cheek, connected by a single tendon to his gushing eye socket.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven!" he screamed through his tears at Kyon, "Hallowed be thy name!" Kyon flashed the blade, just a quick flick of the wrist, and the man's hands disconnected from his arms. He didn't seem to really notice. He just fell to his knees, looking pale, "Thy kingdom, come, thy will, be done!" Kyon walked on. A rioting man. A crying girl. A desperate holy preacher. He felt nothing for them. Was this Clarke? Was this was drove Jack into being? This constant void of emotion to those who need help and a lust for all things cruel? A chunk of pebble that Clarke's fingers were tearing loudly from the streets hit Kyon's ankle, suddenly reminding him of the alien's presence. The belt of metal links suddenly sped up and Kyon turned to see Clarke on his stomach, his fingers carving jagged grooves into the stones beneath his fingers as he resisted.

"Let go of me!" he screamed to the street, "I did this for you! Don't you see?! I have to punish them all! They have to die, vanish, be wiped from reality! There's no end to this destruction unless I end it myself!" His skin torn badly and bleed, Clarke snatched up a jagged rock fragment, rolled onto his back and began to hack at the chain that pulled him, "Why ME?! Why, out of all the evil-doers that should be punished, why did you choose me to torment?! Everything I ever did was for YOU!" As he was dragged into a dimly lit street with parallel alleys, the chains slithered from his ankles and onto his wrists. Clarke tried to stand, tried to run, but the tight, low-lying chains anchored him to his knees and nearly wrenched him in half as they tightened from the darkness. Kyon hugged his sides as he leaned against the lamppost, feeling that his job was done.

Ahead of the boys, the street curved away again, but what was of interest were the two shadows approaching. Unseen lamps lit the two approaching figure's shadows and painted them, huge and grotesque, against the squat, ugly houses. Clarke growled like a wild cat, still full of fight, even now, "You traitors! Is nothing sacred to you?! Don't you see that everything, EVERYTHING I ever did was so you could live?! Have you not one utterance of thanks for the one who put his blood, sweat and tears into your lives?!" The pair rounded the corner, tracing their chains back to the source alleys, gazing at Clarke with woeful eyes. "What now, then? Come to spit in my eye? Cut me and salt the wound? Go on, try it. Do anything you please, you'll not hear me beg!" Clarke stuck out his chin and waited for a beating, but faltered when nothing came. He almost looked scared when he met the pairs of eyes that stopped before him, "What have I done wrong?" he asked them quietly, the anger exhausted, "Please, just tell me. I tried to make all those awful people pay for what they did to us, but do you desire something else? Did I upset you? Did I disappoint you?" The two children, looking like ghosts in the moonlight, sat gently before the foreman and smiled softly. The girl, in an almost motherly way, brushed Clarke's blood-stained hair and kissed his forehead,

"We just want you to stop, sir. You've done enough now, we never blamed you for what happened, it was never your fault. From the moment we breathed, we could only revere and thank you for all your sacrifice, even if you yourself continue to hate your past." She stroked his cheek and the boy continued,

"Fighting isn't the answer, sir. You created us out of love, violence isn't going to bring us back. Just stop for a while and rest. You've done enough." Clarke was silent as he tried to make sense of the words that where soothingly hummed to him. He swallowed a few times and blinked heavily as the taught chains went loosened and began to decay and rust,

"I... can stop?" he croaked. The girl nodded with a smile. "It's... It's really over? I don't have to fight anymore?" She nodded again, stood and gave a little curtsey,

"An honour to have met you, sir! We'll never forget you!" Like a bad film tape, the girl, the boy and all their chains began to flicker and jump, fading them from the dark city. Clarke's arms hit his side softly as the remaining buildings toppled in on themselves, leaving only a single door frame standing in the lamp light. He stood on shaky legs and slowly turned, looking over the devastation before gazing up at the clouded sky. He raised his arm and gently swept it aside, the clouds dispersing in the air and revealing the glittering sky. "Was this all for nought, Kyon?" he mumbled quietly, "Or did I do everything _for_ this?"

Back in the failsafe, Clarke raised his eyebrows at his two guests,

"I didn't realise the, 'Just crawled out of a slaughterhouse' look was back in fashion?" No one laughed. The second Clarke silently approached the raised throne and nodded to the original. Just as his predecessor did, the second Clarke glared and pointed at the opposing pieces,

"I have experienced what humans call 'rage.' The ability to feel anger, to bolster one's own confidence and channel it into offensive capability is for nought if one leads themselves blindly to self-destruction. If I continue to be a faulty link in the flawless mind of the foreman, I shall only hinder him. I am Foreman Alistair Clarke's rage. I shall not succumb to selfish desires and allow myself to be destroyed through blindness; I shall harness the ferocity of this righteous fury and all who dare to oppose me shall know my power." From the crown of his head, down, the second Clarke faded into the glittering mass, which wobbled and snaked into a river. The eight elite guards looked to each other in panicked confusion as the particles of Clarke's rage separated and surrounded them, closing in on them like a predator that had backed its prey into a corner. In the midst of the incredible colours and gentle whoosh, the elites slammed their black marble feet across the board, screaming and cursing Clarke as the waves of data trapped them in a circle. Some skidded to a halt at the realisation of the trap, some tried to leap it to claw at Clarke atop his throne, but all were caught in the surge of light. The ring tightened and hit itself, only a gentle tingle as the eight pieces were swallowed and joined what now formed a small sphere. The orb floated to Clarke and gently landed in his palm, where he cradled it for a moment and considered it.

"You know Kyon," he began suddenly, but slowly, "Even if I were to tell you how old this little ball is, this collection of impulses and signals you call 'anger,' and describe to you how much experience it has, I doubt you would ever believe me." Clarke leaned forwards and dug his teeth into the glittering ball, snapping a segment away between his teeth.

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><p><span>Summary<span>

Before entering the second aspect of Clarke's corrupted insanity, Kyon is teased by Jack, who mentions that Clarke is just as cold-blooded as he is, although he hides it far better beneath his charm. With that foreboding hint, Kyon enters a century-old London and encounters the Alistair Clarke of the day. Clarke pays little attention to Kyon and instead glares at the London Bridge, a wide, squat structure that once housed hundreds of buildings and a cathedral. Clarke produces a dice from his person and rolls the dice, which glows strangely. On the bridge, all attending a party, is every entity that had ever betrayed or inspired anger in Clarke. He claims that for all of his life, those careless, evil people have rolled the dice of fate; whenever the roll is good, they benefit, when bad, Clarke was forced to take the fall. But now the dice is in Clarke's hands and he is eager to wreak bloody justice.

Jack has cleverly isolated Clarke's anger by fuelling it. Why would he ever want to leave? Using all manner of super-natural events and powers granted to him by the dice of fate, Clarke savages the bridge, cutting down endless hordes of people in a rush of joy. Kyon realises that, if he is to cleanse this data corrupted by Jack and destroy the door, he will have to force Clarke's rage to reconcile his anger. As the persona hacks his way through the rowed buildings, Kyon is approached by two children who are shackled to two lamp posts in the heart of London; Clarke's pride and joy, his perfect interfaces. They ask Kyon to simply bring Clarke to them, as they cannot wander too far from their home.

As Clarke takes a break from the destruction, he hands the dice to Kyon, his turnover. He rolls the dice and begins to feel the same way Clarke's corrupted anger does; devoid of emotion and lusting for destruction. After blasting Clarke from the bridge and partially paralysing him whilst levelling nearly all of London in the process, the dice is passed onto the children in further into London. From there intersection of street and alley, they take their turn. Their chains rush through the two rws of seemingly invincible houses and leash onto Clarke, dragging him screaming through the destruction, Kyon silently following. He further realises the extent of Jack's dispassionate anger as he feels the need to destroy one of the standing houses, ignores a helpless girl and dismembers a desperate priest without any regret.

At the intersection lined with houses, the location of the interfaces' deaths, their chains hold Clarke on the spot, who is by now desperate. He claims that all he did was for them, and many more must die for what they did to harm the trio. However, the fragments of Clarke's sane, non-corrupted anger in the form of the interfaces, have a different plan; they forgive him. They tell him that his duty to kill for them and Clarke's anger is soothed and released. With Kyon, the two boys exit the realm and destroy the eight elites on the board, a personification of just a few whom Clarke despises. We close with Clarke's forces ever bolstering and with Jack only two pieces alive; Giles and Ahmed.


End file.
